Dreams vs Reality
by LaDee-Luck
Summary: Takes place after Season 4. - Charlotte and Cooper  with an occasional visit from the other characters - Charlotte has some 'coping' work to do after her sexual assault and Cooper is determined to help see her through. It's tougher than they imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Charlotte is lounging on the couch. There's nothing on TV, _as usual_, and she's bored, full of thoughts she wishes she didn't have, and overtired. She must have cycled the television guide umpteen million times and nothing caught her interest. _Surprise surprise. _

She lets out a disgusted grunt, flips off the TV, and tosses the remote onto the pile of paperwork she had been working on earlier that evening.

Cooper isn't home yet. He's been working late all week thanks to his new patient.

She knows how Coop gets once he becomes hooked on a case: all engrossed and passionate and testy and annoyin'. Though she has to admit, she loves that about him- loves that he wont give up on someone and will do anything and everything he can to make things right. It's kind of the reason they're together.

She glances at the clock. _9:33. _

She imagines him sitting at his desk, his forehead in his hands, staring intently at the same chart he has been staring at for over an hour as if something will suddenly jump out at him and make complete sense. A smile creeps across her face. She can't help it.

She then reaches for her book on the coffee table and opts to read.

Her eyelids are getting heavy, and for a second she scolds herself for feeling tired this early in the evening. _Am I really goin' to go to bed with the chickens? _

After recalling her long hours however, she shrugs her shoulders and figures, hey, if Cooper's not home to… ahem.. _keep her occupied_… then she has every right to call it a night. She could really use the shuteye.

Truth be told, she hasn't been getting much sleep lately. There's been too much going through her head- too many of those certain thoughts she wishes she didn't have. But she isn't going to dwell on that right now. 

_Back to the book_.

She realizes she has been reading the same sentence over and over and it doesn't look like she is going to retain much more than that. A pitiful sigh is released as she lazily shuts the paperback and rests it on her lap so that the back cover is facing up. Simultaneously, she lets her head fall back onto the arm of the sofa and stares at the ceiling until it gets blurred from exhaustion. Her eyes fall shut and for a few precious minutes, she is actually resting peacefully- her mind is actually at ease.

But then she hears a noise, and just like that, the serenity is dead.

She wearily looks around and notices the curtains drifting back and forth, drumming the windowsill as the puffs of wind blow them inward and outward.

_It's just the wind._

She slowly closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. 

_Get a grip_.

Her rapid heartbeat drowns out whatever horrific thoughts previously floated through her paranoid psyche. She's just about calm when suddenly her throat closes up and she swears she went into something that can only be described as cardiac arrest. 

_The window wasn't open before was it?_

She sprouts up and is on her feet faster than she knew was humanly possible. She quickly grabs the closest blunt object, which happens to be the remote control, and cautiously backs up against the wall. Her eyes wander the room from one dark corner to the next. It's empty. _You are being ridiculous. Look at yourself… hidin' from the damn wind. _She rests her arms at her sides, leans her head back against the wall and realizes that she should probably breathe anytime now. _When did I become such a wuss?_

Her heart slows and she loosens her grip on the remote control. Color regains in her knuckles.

She remembers her cell phone sitting on the table, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and considers calling Cooper. _I just need to hear his voice. _She examines the room once, _ok twice,_ more. When she is sure the coast is clear, she makes her way to the phone. She quickly grabs it, presses the side button so that it lights up, and a picture of her and Cooper appears on the home screen. She already feels better. She places the remote control under her arm and uses both hands to steady the phone as she begins to dial. _For God's sake stop shaking; Stop shaking. _It rings. It rings again. It ri-

And then she feels him- her worst nightmare.

She doesn't even have time to scream before one hand covers her mouth and the other wraps around her waist. She drops both the phone and the remote as she tries to pry the giant, sweaty hand off of her face. No luck. Her eyes wander over her shoulder to see who the monster was (as if she didn't already know). Lee McHenry. She screams under his hand and throws her body in the air- kicking her legs, hoping that she will hit any part of him. He throws her on the couch with ease and falls on top of her. His eyes are staring right into hers- there's no fear or vulnerability there like there was the night he came into St. Ambrose with a knife in his chest. _No sir. _Tonight they were full of lust, power and rage. _I should've killed him when I had the chance. _

She screams and scratches and pushes- just like she had done before- and just like before, it was useless. She felt his hand wander her body and his mouth suck her neck. From the distance she hears Cooper's voice. _He's coming! _She looks downward and realizes the voice is coming from the other end of the phone._ "_Char!" "Sweetie can you hear me?" "Charlotte!" She screams again and shoves Lee's hand away from her arm.

And then she see's it: the wedding ring on his finger.

She knows that ring.

She looks back up and Lee's not there at all. Instead she sees a frantic and worried Cooper staring down at her. She glances at the clock. _10:42._

"Charlotte. Look at me."

Her eyes are still trained on the clock.

"Charlotte," Cooper repeats a bit louder, "you were having… (for lack of a better word) a nightmare."

Her eyes finally meet his. Her breathing is still heavy and her heart still pounding. Even Cooper can hear her pulse and it makes him sick to his stomach.

She opens her mouth, but she can't speak. Instead she explores the room.

The remote is sitting on top of her paperwork inches away from where her cell phone rests on the table.

She looks back at Cooper who still hasn't removed his gaze. She slowly sits up, rests her weight on her elbows, and turns her head toward the window.

It's closed.

She continues to study the room until her eyes have circled the entire area and land back on Cooper. He still hasn't removed his stare and she can't help but notice the shine gleaming from his blue eyes. He's holding back tears.

She takes another deep breath, grabs his hand and squeezes. He squeezes back and it feels both incredibly comforting and exceedingly suffocating.

_Say something._

"There's the rest of the roast in the fridge if you're hungry." _Great transition. _

Cooper looks confused, but only for a split moment.

"I actually had a vending machine buffet back at the office."

Charlotte lets out a quick chuckle. _Thank God he's not goin' to make a big thing out of this._ Cooper smiles too and relaxes his grip. Charlotte uses the opportunity to remove her hand, stands up, and heads toward the bedroom- her eyes still searching every nook and cranny for a stranger's shadow. She stops and faces Cooper.

"I'm tired. I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep." _Sleep… not likely._

He nods and stands up too.

"I'm going to grab a quick shower and join you."

_He's really not gonna say anything. _

"So, did ya get anywhere with that patient? Are you comin' home on time tomorrow?" _Please say yes._

Cooper knows what she is really asking: 'Are you coming home or leaving me alone another night?'

"Umm yeah. Had a breakthrough actually. That means we can carpool tomorrow."

"I think I work later than you. I have an extra round at the hospital," Charlotte responds while anxiously pounding her fingertips together.

Without hesitation he responds, "I can wait."

_Thank you Cooper. _Charlotte faintly smiles and nods before turning around and continuing to make her way to the bedroom.

Cooper straightens the pillows and picks Charlotte's book up off the couch.

Without even looking at the title he knows what it is. She's read it more times than he thinks she will ever confess, but he knows it's one of the few things that brings her comfort. He turns it over and traces the title with his finger: _To Kill A Mockingbird_. Written under that, in a slightly smaller font reads: _A Novel By Harper Lee_. Cooper's finger stops at the last word. 

_Lee._

He now wonders if her favorite book is still such a comfort.

After tossing it on the table, (he notices that he flung it quickly as if the name itself was burning his hand) he walks around and checks all of the doors and windows to be sure they are locked. He checks them once again, and then goes to take a shower. He purposely passes Char on the way and finds her lying in a small ball under the covers. Her eyes are clenched shut- she's trying, a bit to hard, to look asleep and in the corner there is one small tear that escaped the dam. He has the urge to wipe it away, but instead he grabs his sleepwear and heads to the bathroom. He 'accidentally' leaves the door ajar and takes perhaps the shortest shower he has ever taken in his life.

_Thank you Cooper. _


	2. Chapter 2

It's the pale auburn light barely making its way through the bedroom window that brings Charlotte back to reality.

She's now regretfully aware that she has to be at work in a little less than three hours and hasn't slept a wink. _No use now._

She repositions herself, carefully so not to wake Cooper, and lays on her back. Cooper stirs too, ever so slightly, and drapes his arm heavily across her torso. _He's out like a light._

Charlotte closes her eyes and remembers those days- not so very long ago- when laying like this would have been utter torture. Not any more, _thank God. _These days she can't refrain from touching him. They are back to their old selves- all over each other_. Or what was that expression mama used to say about Landry and his high school flame- "Friskier than rabbits?" _Well, you've got the idea.

Even moments like these, she cant keep from placing her hand right on top of his, and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. She had no idea it was possible to have this much love for another person, and has absolutely no clue how she got so lucky for a great guy like Coop to feel the same way about her.

He's her comfort zone; her soft place to land; her listening ear- _if she ever does feel like talkin'_. He's her best friend- the love of her life. She can feel herself light up just thinking about how happy she is with this man. Things have been good…great even. There's no denying it. Cooper and her have been great.

True, work has been kind of rough between having that rape victim at St. Ambrose and dealing with the license troubles over at OWG; but, she's been… _considerin' all that's happened… _just fine.

And yet, every so often, she will have nights like this one. She shouldn't complain. She can handle one bad night every now and then. But- and this returns her focus to the question (well questions) she's been asking herself all night- _why _does she still have nights like these?

She stared that poor-excuse-of-a-man in the damn face and told him how pathetic he is. She told him that she pitied him and that she wasn't scared of him, and that's all very, very true!

Most of the time.

The truth of the matter is, he's still out there.

He may be behind bars now, but who knows for how long. Lee's girlfriend told the cops that he admitted to raping Charlotte that Halloween night, but technically that can be considered 'hearsay.' 'His beaten-up girlfriend out for revenge.' _Hell, everythin' else was tainted, might as well throw that one in the bunch._

Sure he will probably get some time for that number he did on that poor woman.

But then he will be released- early for 'good behavior' no doubt.

Will someone call her and tell her that he's been let out? Is he out now? Did she provoke him that day? He knows where she works- can he follow her home? She told his girlfriend to run. Should she have done the same?

She shakes her head and lets out a small grunt. _Here I go again, carryin' on with this nonsense. _

It's not that she regrets not killing the bastard. Honestly, she has never been prouder of herself and how she handled the situation.

However, if he was dead, some of her concerns would unquestionably be gone. The world would have one less Lee McHenry to worry about. Not necessarily a bad deal. Except… she would have been a murderer. Sheldon was right, she couldn't let Lee take what makes her, _her._

So what exactly is the best solution? What will prevent these nights from haunting her? Is there anything? _Anything _she can do? She then thinks of Amelia. She's drinking again… she _knows _she's drinking again. But how much? How often? _What should I do? Why are we both going backwards? _Her thoughts are interrupted when she feels Cooper's thumb slowly rubbing her stomach. She turns her head towards him and is surprised when she sees his eyes open and a faint grin on his face.

"What are you doin' awake," Charlotte asks him almost playfully.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replies in a matching tone.

"Oh you know me. Just layin' here thinkin' about all of the things I have to get done at the hospital. Long day ahead…"

"Hmm…" Cooper replies, not sounding entirely convinced. He turns his focus to Charlotte's hand which is still resting on top of his. He stops moving his thumb.

Charlotte notices the lack of conviction, but chooses to avoid conflict and remains quiet.

It doesn't work.

"You're right Char. I do know you. I know you enough to know when you're not being honest with me… such as now.. "

"What are you talkin' about?"

Her voice is still relatively calm, so he doesn't hesitate to continue.

"Well I come home to find you thrashing and screaming on the couch- clearly having some sort of nightmare, or flashback, or whatever you want to call it. I wake you up and you flee to the bedroom without saying one word about it- pretending it didn't happen. Which is fine; I respect that. But now I wake up and find you staring at the ceiling with this unsettling look on your face and you're going to tell me it's about work?"

Charlotte still doesn't say a word. She turns her head so she is once again facing the ceiling, pulls her hand away from Cooper's and uses it to comb some hair out of her face while letting out a short sigh. Her mouth is open and she is biting her tongue the way she does when she doesn't know exactly what to say. Cooper takes the hint.

"Okay. I'm sorry." He pauses to take hold of her hand. "If you say it's about work, then.. then I guess I can _pretend _to believe you."

Charlotte still hasn't removed her gaze from the same spot on the ceiling, but she's at least somewhat smiling now. Cooper's not sure if it's because she thought his little pun was funny or just because she's relieved that he's not pursuing the conversation.

A bit of both he figures.

He squeezes her hand. She squeezes back.

And there they lay in silence. Both awake- both trying to work out what the other one is thinking; their hands joined and their eyes droopy.

It's so quiet that they can hear a pin drop; and good thing or they wouldn't have heard Cooper's cell phone buzzing from the other room.


	3. Chapter 3

A quick, inquisitive glance is exchanged before they kick off the blankets and make their way towards the living room. Cooper walks straight to his cell being charged on the counter while Charlotte detours to throw on her robe. When she does approach Cooper, it doesn't take much to know that something's wrong.

"Coop, what is it?"

He doesn't respond right away, but instead puts the phone to his ear and holds his finger to his lips. Charlotte remains quiet and then remembers her own phone still sitting on the table. She forgot to put it on the charger after last night's ordeal. _Damn. _

She walks over, grabs it, and pushes the side button to light up the screen.

_2 Missed Calls._

She hits 'View Now' and is completely surprised to see Violet's name appear. _What in God's name…?_

"Shit…" She hears Cooper murmur from the kitchen.

"Cooper? I have two missed calls from Violet and I'm sure as hell she wasn't tryin' to get a hold of me. What happened?"

She sees him run to the bedroom and begin to throw on some pants.

"Cooper! Are you goin' to tell me what's goin' on, or are you plannin' on keepin' me in the dark?"

"It's Pete. He's had a heart attack.. or something. I don't know.. Violet just left a frantic message and she wants me- well us- there! So come on get dressed!"

"My God. What exactly did she say? What are his stats? Is he stable? What are his… wait, I thought Violet left town.."

"Charlotte! I don't know! Okay? I don't know. All I know is that she needs me, and Pete's hurt so I need to get there now."

He's nearly ready.

"Don't snap at me for askin' questions anyone would ask! Believe it or not, I care about these people too."

Cooper stops what he's doing and gives Charlotte an apologetic look.

"Char, I didn't mean…"

"I know." She interrupts. "It's fine. I'll throw my clothes on."

She reaches for the outfit she laid out the night before and gives Cooper an understanding, but not entirely forgiving, nod before stepping into the bathroom.

Moments later, they are both heading towards the door.

"I'll grab you a jacket, it looks a bit nippy out," Charlotte murmurs while walking past him.

Cooper grabs her arm first. "I know you care for them Char. I wasn't saying that."

"I said it wasn't a big deal- now would you let go so we can get out of here!"

She pries her arm away and grabs him a coat out of the nearby closet.

He puts on the jacket and then straightens the collar on Charlotte's cardigan.

"I just... I don't want to hurt your feelings."

_I see what's goin' on here._

"Cooper, I'm fine. Really. Don't treat me like a child just because I had a minor incident last night. You know I hate that."

He opens his mouth and starts to say something, but changes his mind- and justifiably too, because she's already chosen to end the conversation and head out the door.

Within minutes, they are both downstairs and at the car.

"Try getting a hold of Violet," Cooper shouts while getting in the driver's seat.

Charlotte slides in the passenger seat and pulls her phone out of her pocket.

"Let me use your phone. Mine's low."

Cooper reaches in his pocket, pulls out his cell, and tosses it to Charlotte.

She hits send, knowing that it will take her to the 'recent calls' list. Sure enough, the list consists of:

_Violet_

_Violet_

_Violet_

_Violet_

And then, there it was- one of her biggest fears.

Sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of '_Violets'_ was one of those malicious, wounding deceits.

You know the ones- The ones that you can feel stab deep into your heart, even when there's no real weapon.

It may have been just a name. But to Charlotte, it was more of a phobia: _Marcia. _

She subtly glanced over at Cooper who was concentrating on the road. She looked back down and quickly scrolled through the list. Marcia's name appeared 4 other times within the past week.

Her stomach dropped.

She then dialed Violet, because the priority here should be Pete- That's what she was telling herself anyway- and frankly, she didn't want to let her mind wander more than it already was.

No answer.

Instead, Charlotte's phone rings.

"It's the hospital," she murmurs before answering.

Cooper had no doubts that the call was about Pete as he listened intently to Charlotte's questions and studied her "hmmms" and "ahhs." Every so often she'd catch his gaze and slip him a reassuring gesture.

The call only lasted a minute- maybe two. But to Cooper, who was waiting not-so-patiently for any amount of information, it lasted a lifetime.

When Charlotte finally hung up, she let out a sigh, repeated Pete's stats and placed her hand soothingly on Cooper's thigh.

"He's stable, Coop. Critical, but stable. That's somethin'."

"Yeah okay." But Cooper didn't look comforted at all.

"Cooper. It's gonna be okay"

"You don't know that! You said something to that tune when Dell was in that car wreck. He's dead Charlotte. How about Amelia? Is she going to be _okay _too? How do you know that she isn't going to drink herself to liver failure. And how about you? People kept telling me you're going to be _okay- _and I thought you were better, I did. But now you're having nightmares and panic attacks or whatever you insist on calling them and you pretend that they don't happen. You're obviously _not okay. _And now there's Pete. So don't tell me that everything is going to be _okay _when everything is not _okay_…. _Okay_?"

Charlotte sat speechless. She heatedly removed her hand from Cooper's lap and folded it across her chest. She's desperately trying not to bite Cooper's head off. How dare he say something so crude? So absolutely unreasonable? So very…

_True. _

_Dell is gone- much too soon. Amelia? She's pretending that everything's peachy keen when it's not. And me, well, I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I'm fine, for the most part, but sometimes… I'm... I'm just… not. _

And then there's this mystery woman- _a home-wrecker no doubt. _

_Marcia. _

Even the way she said the name in her head was filled with contempt:

_Marcia. _

_Coop's been workin' late. Sounds familiar. Maybe me and him- maybe we're not even doin' 'okay.'_

Her mind couldn't handle that possibility.

So there they sat in silence.

Cooper felt bad for hollering, but was too agitated and worried to apologize.

Charlotte was too busy trying to ignore the countless, undesirable thoughts cycling through her mind.

She turned her head towards the window and refocused her attention to the passing cars.

Cooper quickly looked over at his wife's face. As usual, she was bottling up any emotions she had to be feeling. However, he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were glossier than normal.

Her mouth moved.

She wasn't speaking out loud, but he could make out the first few words:

"_God grant me the serenity."_

Without even trying, she had comforted him- even if only a little bit.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A.N.: Hey Guys! Okay okay. It's been a while, but life took over. And Shondaland came back to our television sets which, I admit, has been an amazing distraction. Now, I'm writing the season my way. Yes, I'm keeping somewhat to what Shonda has beautifully laid out for us- **__**But not completely. I have my own visions in mind. Once again, I adore Charlotte and Cooper so my story will usually focus on them. But I also like to acknowledge the fact that the other characters exist! The next few chapters will include basically everyone. Charper fans, hang in there. You wont be sorry. Everyone else, umm still read? I suggest you guys reread the first few chapters before. **__**Anyway, hope you enjoy! Reviews appreciated! Much love!  
><strong>_. . . _ . . .

Being Chief of Staff definitely has its perks.

Besides being boss and having power over every scrub-wearin' soul that wanders the halls of St. Ambrose, it also comes with a pretty fantastic parking space.

So after swerving through the blissful LA traffic, to the tune of Cooper's mumbled swears of course, parking was at least a breeze.

They both sped through the ER entrance where an awaiting nurse handed Charlotte her lab coat and clipboard, all while pointing in the direction of a distressed red-head solemnly sitting in the waiting area.

A quick "thank you" was voiced from Charlotte as she attempted to keep up with Cooper, who was already darting towards Addison.

"Addison. What's going on? How is he?" Cooper asked, though he was scanning the room for Violet more that he was actually anticipating an answer.

It's not that he didn't care about Pete- far from it.

Pete's one of his closest friends. In fact, he's almost like his brother or something.

But Violet… well Violet was _his Violet_, you know?

And he heard her voice on the phone. Lost. Scared-to-death. He could barely make out what she was saying through her panicked sobs.

He couldn't do much for Pete. The heart isn't his area of expertise.

But he could be a friend to Violet

… much like she was to him the night Charlotte was attacked.

That was something he was good at.

That was something he could do.

Addison, clearly in a state of shock, straightened up and swiftly swept away some tears.

"Oh hey," she paused again; regained composure. "He's stable, for now. Touch and go. Sam's with him in the cath lab. I just had to get some water." She wiggled a half-empty water bottle and placed it back between her knees. "Plus, I felt in the way. Sam wanted the space and unless Pete's pregnant, there's nothing I can do for him. So I thought I'd come out here and try to calm Violet dow-"

"Yeah where is Violet?" Cooper interrupted, maybe too unapologetically.

"She's in the bathroom. Sam didn't want her in there. She's hysterical. Maybe you can-"

Cooper already took that as his cue and blurted out an, "I'll go."

He slung his coat on a nearby chair and left to console his friend.

For the first time since arriving, Charlotte looked up from the assemblage of stats and notes in her hand and peered down the hallway after Cooper.

Sensing some sort of tension, Addison cleared her throat in hopes that the noise would be enough to break the silence. Fortunately for her, if there is one thing Charlotte King knows how to do, it's how to take a hint.

"So what exactly happened?" Charlotte asked while tossing her tote bag on top of Cooper's coat and smoothing out her sleeve.

"Apparently Violet never left the airport. She had second thoughts, came home, found Pete on the floor… that's all I got out of her. Pete was barely conscious when I got here."

Charlotte moves to sit down in the seat next to her, exhaling as she takes everything in.

"Well, thank God she had those second thoughts. Who knows how long he would've been lyin' there if she hadn't."

Addison nodded in agreement. "I know. I don't even want to think about how long he was down there. So alone. In all that pain. And God, poor Lucas! What he must have thought…" Almost in unison, they both sighed and rested their heads against the wall.

"Great way to start the day huh?" Addison murmured in an insipid attempt to lighten the mood.

"Mmm. Like Christmas."

A small, forced chuckle came from Addison as she continued to stare at the ceiling and play idly with her water bottle's cap.

"I wish I was kiddin'." Charlotte corrected. "Christmas was hell when I was growin' up. Most kids come downstairs to a roomful of goodies. I came down to a roomful of rowdy relatives, three-sheets-to-the-wind naturally, and two screechin' younger brothers. I wanted to shoot up that chimney right after ol' St. Nick."

This time Addison let out an actual laugh and Charlotte grinned right along with her.

But the smiles quickly faded.

Charlotte, her mouth now skewed to the side- eyes trained on the floor, was once again trying to stop replaying the eventful car-ride in her mind.

Nothing's more aggravatin' than people who feel the need to dwell on things that shouldn't even matter.

Yet, here she is doing just that.

She's probably blowing the whole Marcia thing out of proportion anyway.

God, she hopes there's nothin' even TO blow out of proportion.

And under the circumstances, Cooper had every reason to lash out. It really has been a rough year.

And now Pete…

With that thought, she sprung up.

"Better get in there."

"Yeah I should check on Amelia," Addison added as she reached down and began to rummage through her purse for her cell.

"Why would you need to do that?" Charlotte blurted, suddenly on high alert, - a little too suspiciously she'll admit.

"Lucas's nanny couldn't get to Violet's for another few hours. Amelia was at the billiards hall not too far from their house and when she heard the situation, she offered to run over and watch Lucas until the nanny could get there."

Charlotte's eyes widened and her lips slightly parted.

"Amelia's alone with the kid?"

Looking up at Charlotte mockingly, eyebrows arched, Addison responded (rather questionably), "Yes… _the kid- _who has a name by the way- is not that difficult to watch, Charlotte. I'm sure Amelia is more than capable of keeping an eye on him. He's probably just sleeping anyway."

"'Course. I never said she couldn't handle it." Charlotte defensively concurred. "Just didn't peg her as the babysittin' type that's all."

"Well, I'm sure it's not one of her favorite hobbies."

"Right. Well I'll let you get to it," she calmly stated while turning and walking in the opposite direction.

Once she turned the corner and felt comfortably secluded, Charlotte slipped her hand in her pocket for her own dying phone. _Don't die on me now… _

She glanced around her as she dialed a familiar number and impatiently listened to the series of rings.

_Pick up, pick up, pick up. _

Sheldon's voice finally came through the other end.

"Charlotte?" _There's a lot of static. I must have caught him in the car._

"I'm on the way to the hospital now- I'm in the car." _Yep._

"How's Pete?"

"I actually haven't seen Pete yet. But you need to make a pit stop. Amelia's at Violet's with Lucas. Alone."

"Okay? By the tone of your voice, I'm taking that is a bad thing?"

"It's not bad. It's just…"

After everything she did for her, Charlotte wasn't exactly eager to trash Amelia's reputation. It really wasn't her place to say anything.

It's Amelia's business.

And she sure as hell has no right to go off half-cocked and tell everyone Amelia's business until she is sure- without question- that there's even somethin' to tell.

Her train of thought is interrupted when she hears Sheldon echo her, "Just?"

_God, I don't need this._

"You know what Sheldon? I'm askin' you to do somethin'. Could you please just do it."

"Well technically you haven't actually asked me anything yet."

_Good lord… _

"Just stop at Violet's and make sure the waters are calm so to speak."

"Charlotte, should I be concerned here?"

_Probably._ But her advice to Amelia kept running through her mind: _'Don't turn a slip into a fall.' _

"Look, the nanny should be there soon. Just wait with Amelia 'til she gets there. I'll keep you posted on Pete. Thanks Sheldon."

She hung up quickly before he had a chance to continue the round of 21 questions he was surely yearning to play.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Charlotte promptly scrubbed in and joined Sam in the cath lab.

"How's he doin'?" She shouted to whoever was listening.

She shifted her glance from a nurse, to a busy Sam, and then to Pete.

He was limp, clammy, practically dead.

He looked the same way most patients she saw in this particular room did.

Except this time it was Pete.

The man she jokes with about the bizarre relationship their spouses share. The one who shares her hatred of the stupidity that is 'American Bake-Off.'

The man that carried her in his arms after she was attacked.

They weren't all that close.

But, in a way they were.

Her stomach dropped and she bit her tongue.

Sam finished jotting down a few last notes before summarizing his findings.

"The EMTs gave him the usual nitroglycerine cocktail to help prevent clotting. His blood tests show he has a high level of cardiac enzymes and troponins in his bloodstream; The Echo confirmed that surgery is the best way to go. Blood pressure's been consistently high," he gestures toward the monitor, "his pulse is still racing even after our attempts to bring it back down to a stable pace. Cardiac catheterization shows that there is a partial obstruction of the coronary artery. We need to restore the blood flow _now _before the damage to the heart muscle is irreversible."

"Bypass Sam? That's the best option?" Her eyes still locked on Pete.

"It's the only option."

She quickly nodded and demanded the nearest nurse to fetch Dr. Turner as she grabbed the phone to let the OR know a patient is on its way.

Sam, on Pete's left, unlocked the bed and directed the surrounding nurses to get ready to prep.

Charlotte approached Pete on his right, unlocked the bed, gently wrapped her fingers around his, and whispered the only thing she could think of saying.

"It's okay. We've got you."

Within seconds, they were rushing towards the OR.

Their hands stayed joined the entire time.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you think I'm a bad wife?"

They have been sitting in silence for the past 20 minutes or so in the waiting room.

Just Cooper and Violet.

Addison had disappeared into the back, playing messenger.

Sam and Charlotte were in the operating room.

Pete was in surgery.

And Violet was a wreck.

She had finally calmed down some when Cooper, thank God for him, barged into the bathroom and smothered her in a desperately needed hug.

And then she went on one of her famous blathers. The ones she could only do with him. She knew she wasn't making much sense. But she couldn't keep from crying and talking, and crying and talking.

She was a blubbering mess and she had every right to be.

Cooper let her get it out- not saying much. He just kept shushing her and stroking her back.

He wanted to say it was going to be okay. It seemed like the customary thing to say in these predicaments.

Great. Now he felt bad for snapping at Charlotte in the car.

It was approximately at the time Cooper was coming to that realization when Addison and a surgical nurse found, and informed them about Pete needing bypass surgery.

Since then, Violet had been eerily silent.

Cooper wasn't too sure what was going through her mind. Nothing good, he figured.

And then out popped that question.

"Do you think I'm a bad wife?"

"Of course not. You're a good person." Cooper assured as he pulled her closer to him.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and let out a heavy, steadying breath.

"I mean, you can be selfish, sure. But still a good person."

"Selfish?" She abruptly pulled away. "You think I'm selfish?"

Cooper turned his head so that he was facing her.

"Come on Violet. You know you can be selfish. You run away when things get tough. Do you recall what you were doing a few hours ago?"

"I was not running away, Cooper. I was going on a book tour. I was coming back in a few weeks you know."

"You didn't even bother telling me you were going, so no, I didn't know. But we both know your track record…"

"Don't go there. That's not fair." She defended.

"You're right. I'm sorry. But truthfully, was now _really _the right time for you to take off? Pete asked you to stay- you told me that yourself- and with all the problems going on with the practice that, and I really hate to say this, but that you kind of initiated… Unintentionally of course." He made sure to throw that last bit in.

He watched her intently as she processed what he was confessing.

"Okay." she finally conceded. "Maybe now wasn't the best time to go to New York."

Her head dropped back and her gaze shifted to the ceiling.

"But God, between the constant fights with Pete, the disapprovals from all of you a few weeks back, and now with the medical board attacking me… I, I just needed a reminder that my book really does help people. That it doesn't just cause stress and complications."She leaned her head back on his shoulder and sighed, "Isn't that understandable?"

"Very." Cooper agreed before kissing the top of her head.

"And maybe a tad selfish," he finished while shrugging his shoulders and painting a childlike smirk on his face.

Violet softly smacked his shoulder and repositioned herself so that she was hugging his arm.

"I really cant take objective Cooper right now. I need friend Cooper."

"Violet," he disputed. "No matter how objective I am with you, I will always first and foremost be your friend."

He pulled his arm away and draped it around her, rubbing her side as he felt her relax.

"Now, do you think I'm a bad husband?"

He had the urge to ask since they were apparently deciphering each other's marital skills- or lack thereof.

"Why? Are you and Charlotte hating each other already?"

"No. No we've been good. Just had a small blow out this morning. I went off on her in the car and now I feel bad." He shamefacedly admitted.

"What about?"

"Life."

"Helpful Cooper. Really." She paused. "Have you told her what Marcia suggested… or better yet, have you told her about Marcia?"

He let out an uncomfortable huff. "No. Not yet. I'm putting off the Charlotte-killing-me-thing until the time's right."

"Ah, I see. And when exactly is the 'right time?'"

"When she's sleeping?" Cooper wishfully proposed. He groaned," If she ever actually decides to sleep again…"

"You need to talk to her Cooper. Tell her about Marcia. It's not fair to her, or to you. Keeping secrets isn't healthy. You two, of all people, should know that. Just be honest. She'll understand."

"Yeah. I'll talk to her."

The room grew quiet again as the two began to mull over the advice one had given the other.

"Violet?"

"Yeah?"

"You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Am I a bad husband?"

Violet chuckled.

"That's impossible." She whispered while patting his arm. "Charlotte is a lucky, lucky girl."

Cooper relaxed his shoulders and smiled.

"And Pete's a lucky, lucky guy."

Violet frowned. She wasn't so sure.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh how the awkwardness was brewing over at Violet's.

Sheldon and Amelia found themselves competing in a rather expertly played, not so friendly, staring contest. The house was quiet, Lucas was indeed sleeping and Amelia, although a bit on guard at first, seems okay. She had welcomed him in, thinking he was there with news on Pete, and then marched to the couch in a huff when she found out he was just there to "keep her company."

She knew better. She wasn't an idiot. Something was up.

She insisted that he would be of more use at the hospital, and that unless "watching the walls" was a two-person job, she didn't need him there.

However, he made himself comfortable anyway and began to recall, aloud of course, a time in his adolescent years when he was asked to watch the neighbor's child and the havoc that stemmed from the experience. How this tot must have been exposed to some violent encounters and that he could have definitely benefited from some serious counseling; Not to mention, that Sheldon acquired this phobia of children and never understood, to this day, how single parents fare on their own.

Amelia faked a few chuckles, then interrupted him mid-sentence to once again ask why he was _really _there.

"Like I said, I thought you could use the company. Now how long has the little guy been asleep?"

Sheldon was stalling, and he may be a pretty good shrink…

But he was a crappy liar.

This whole situation had Charlotte written _all over it_.

Which brings us to the present battle …

Sheldon's sitting on a dining room chair, legs crossed, chin hidden by his hooked hand, perfectly positioned so that he is facing Amelia. She is slouched back on the couch, sunken into the cushions, a small smirk painted on her face like she has him all figured out; her cunning eyes glued to his usual squinty stare.

It was quite a contest.

"Charlotte sent you here." Amelia finally affirmed, bored with the silence.

"Pardon?"

"Charlotte," she emphasized, "sent you here. And you can avoid answering me, you can ramble on with all of your psychological jargon, you can respond to my questions with questions. I still know Charlotte had something to do with you randomly showing up here."

"Why would you assume that?" He impassively questions, not removing his studying-gaze for an instant.

"Oh I don't know Sheldon, maybe because she has this sick, twisted desire to complicate my life."

"Now that sounds a bit ridiculous. Don't you think Charlotte has more important things to do than to think up ways to provoke you?"

"You would think. But what can I say, the bitch can multitask."

She lets out a cynical laugh and situates herself so that she is even more relaxed into the sofa. Sheldon remains motionless.

"I'm sensing a lot of rage towards Charlotte."

"Really? Is it _that _obvious?"

"What did she do to complicate your life?"

"Yeah, like she hasn't already told you..."

"She hasn't told me a thing." Sheldon assures, and he really hopes she believes him. Charlotte was clearly being careful about not giving too much away. That didn't go unnoticed. She had kept her thoughts to herself- and he knew that was because Amelia's friendship meant a great deal to her.

"It doesn't matter." Amelia hardheartedly points out, now sitting at the edge of her seat.

"What doesn't?"

"Face it Sheldon, you'll take her side. You'll always take Charlotte's side over mine, and that's fine because I don't need you, or anybody's approval."

She's getting defensive, he notes.

"I'm not here to take sides. I don't even know the situation to be perfectly honest and trust me Amelia, I will always be honest with you. I just hope you can say the same to me."

There was silence for a few drawn-out moments and then Amelia carefully responds with, "I made a mistake. A small one. No one got hurt. I learned my lesson. That's all you need to know." She pauses and then adds a, "_Honestly."_

He likes Amelia. She's exceptionally astute, and a thoughtful person. She was a big help to Charlotte over the past months. He saw that, and he appreciated that, more than she'll ever know. Charlotte's important to him- maybe more important to him than she should be (he contemplates that a lot). Watching Amelia be her shoulder during those rough couple of months was very reassuring.

He almost hated to pursue the conversation- to upset her further- but at the same time, the shrink in him was anxious to get to the root of the problem.

"And Charlotte thinks you didn't learn your lesson?"

"Charlotte is making something out of nothing, which is ironic given the fact that she told me to do just the opposite. I swear I don't know how Cooper takes her."

"Charlotte's usually not that kind of a person. Not unless it concerns a matter that she feels particularly strongly about."

"Apparently she _is _that kinda person." She sighs heavily, pondering to herself if opening up to Sheldon is a smart thing to do. In the end, she figures it's better than being questioned all night, and truth be told, she doesn't mind Sheldon. He was always good to her. And if Charlotte was going to tell him an exaggerated tale, he should at least hear her side of the story.

She takes another breath, softens her tone, and continues, "You know I had a thing with pills once… I mean, it was _years _ago." She wanted to make herself perfectly clear that it was a problem she had long since overcome.

He gives her an understanding nod and folds his hands in his lap. "I had heard that."

"Well, knowing she would get where I'm coming from," she continues, "I confided in Charlotte that I was drinking a little more than usual. She offered to go to some meetings with me, and we did. She reminded me to watch myself, and I am. I accidentally took a sip of champagne at their wedding, she told me 'not to turn a sip into a fall,' and I didn't. I felt better- I _feel _better. I feel in control. Then, I had a beer or two at the bar with some friends, I slipped. I got called in for an emergency surgery and I chose to operate. _I know_ it wasn't the right decision. I shouldn't have operated. But, I wasn't drunk, I wasn't even tipsy. Sheldon, you have to believe I would never, _never_ pick up a scalpel and cut into someone if I felt I couldn't do it. I saved that patient's life. It may have been poor judgment on my end, but I know my limits. I didn't kill anyone, I made a mistake. I thought Charlotte would understand that- after everything I did for her, I thought she could just focus on the fact that I saved a life. I just slipped. That happens."

She stays quiet for a minute, giving Sheldon a chance to say something, but he's silent. "Anyway, I was wrong. She revoked my surgical privileges. Come on! I'm not a bad surgeon! In fact, I'm a great surgeon! She's using my history, that I _chose _to share with her- as a way to _help _her, might I add- against me. How could she be so unreasonable?"

Sheldon sits there nodding, trying to think of the right thing to say. He could see that Amelia had convinced herself that she was right and Charlotte was wrong- a common mindset. It's always easier to fault others. Truthfully, he understood where she was coming from. Maybe Charlotte was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Addiction is an issue that hits close to home for her, and that can cloud her judgment.

Amelia seems apologetic enough. She realizes she was wrong. She's a bit cocky, but that's just Amelia. The real question is, does she realize the real graveness of her actions? And is there more to tell?

"That is a harsh punishment for a first time offense." He'll at least give her that.

"Thank you."

"But-"

"Here we go…" she interjects.

"You do realize that, that mistake could have been a deadly one; That your career was not the only thing in jeopardy here. Even with one drink in you, your judgment is impaired. You could have made one small nick, and your patient would have died; The patient's family would have suffered a tragic loss. And Charlotte would have been in a sufficient amount of trouble. All of that could have happened as a consequence of your 'slip.'"

"I know, Sheldon, I know. And I said I was sorry. It was stupid, I realize that. But the fact of the matter is, none of that _did _happen."

Now it was Sheldon's turn to interject, "_This_ time. None of that happened _this _time. You were lucky."

"See, I knew you'd take her side-"

"I'm not taking her side I'm just-"

"You guys act like I drank a keg. I had _a _beer, maybe two. I wasn't drunk, I was still able to function and I knew what I was doing. Just like I know what I'm doing now- babysitting." She leans in closer to Sheldon, " Lucas is a toddler and he's asleep. It's really not brain surgery… and hey, if it was, guess what, I could still do it! That being said, I think it's time you go check on the person who really needs help, Pete." She gets up and heads toward the kitchen. "Oh, and add Charlotte to that list. That woman needs some serious help."

Sheldon stands now too.

"So you're saying you haven't had a drink since that whole ordeal?"

"Goodbye Sheldon."

"Answer my question."

"I'm going to go check on Lucas."

"I just smelt alcohol on your breath Amelia. Did you have another 'slip'?"

He listens to her angry footsteps as she reappears in the door-frame.

She doesn't even attempt lying.

"No actually, there wasn't a slip. I knew what I was doing. I had one drink. One, with some friends at the billiards hall, and that was hours ago. I'm not on call. Violet knew I was there and she trusted me with her kid. I was a pill-popper, Sheldon, not an alcoholic. I'm allowed to have a drink every now and again. I know for a fact Charlotte does."

"Fair enough." Sheldon quickly replies. "It's your life Amelia. You're not a child, you should be responsible and know your limits. Not Charlotte, not me, _you_. So if you honestly think you're fine and that you are handling everything, then that's all that matters. But don't deny that you have a problem or avoid getting help when you know you need it. That's just being ignorant, and I never once found you to be an ignorant person."

He half-expects her to storm off. Instead, she stands there, nods her head, and calmly repeating that she's fine.

Sheldon takes the opportunity to defend Charlotte one last time.

"As far as Charlotte goes, I am very much aware of how crude she can come off. But she cares for you Amelia. I can see that. She just wants to make sure that you're okay. It's sweet really…"

"Yeah well she has some way of showing it. Taking my job away, the one thing I'm good at-"

Before the conversation was able to repeat itself, and it was going to do just that, Sheldon's phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, sees Charlotte's name on the caller ID and quickly answers.

"Charlotte, how's Pete?"

"He's still in bypass surgery. It's worse than we thought. His valves are leakin', we're tryin' to prevent a myocardial rupture. I'm worried, Sheldon. I got to get back in there, but just wanted to keep you posted."

"I appreciate it. Take care of him."

"Sam's doin' great. Everything okay there?"

"We're fine. You just focus on Pete."

He overhears someone shout something he can't quite decipher, and she whispers, "_crap_" into the receiver.

"Get here as soon as you both can. I'll make sure Cooper keeps in touch." There was a click, and she was gone.

Sheldon looks at Amelia, and she immediately knows that the call didn't bare good news.

"That bad?"

He doesn't reply, but he doesn't need to. Amelia sullenly makes her way to the couch, sits on her legs and stares off into the distance. Sheldon rests his chin on his hand.

They may disagree on a lot, but right now they were both thinking the same thing.

They were hoping to God that Pete pulls through.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam is sweating more than usual. The surgical lamps feel exceptionally warm, the circumstances are daunting, and he is trying his best to pretend this isn't Pete lying on the table. It's just another patient- a nameless, unaffiliated, opened-up torso. Not his longtime friend and drinking-buddy; Not his fellow coworker; Not the husband of Violet and the father of little Lucas.

Not _their _Pete.

No. This is just another day in the OR- just another surgery- Just another…

… Man, he could have sworn the voice in his head was more convincing than that.

It helps to focus on the soothing, melodic sound of the heart monitor. Each beat is a comfort. His skilled hand is intricately creating a graft around the damaged artery, all the meanwhile trying to keep the bleeding at bay.

He doesn't want that soothing, melodic sound to go back to the rapid, unsettling mantra it was only minutes before. Charlotte was in the room then.

There had been screaming- screaming for more blood and more suction and more towels. It was a panicky, chaotic, nerve-racking mess. The blood- and there had been so much blood - seemed to be coming from everywhere. It was hard to stay on top of it.

But then, the bleeding was under control, and Pete's pressure normalized. The soothing rhythm was back. Sam kept working, drowning out the orders Charlotte was still disseminating. Their wide-eyes met, their breathing now slowed, and she told him he was doing great, that things like that happened all the time, just continue to do what he was doing. He knew all of that of course, but it helped, he'll admit, to hear it out loud.

Then she left to call Sheldon and fill Addison in on how things were going- giving him some space and time to recoup.

It's a much smoother surgery now. Pete's hanging in there, his heart is cooperating, and Sam's hoping… _needing _it to stay that way.

* * *

><p>"Well?"<p>

It was Addison.

Charlotte knew as soon as she'd push open those double-doors that Addison would be there anxiously waiting for information. Earlier, a nurse had come in and asked if she should escort her back to the waiting area. The staff is _quite aware, _because thankfully Charlotte makes her thoughts well known, that she hates when people dawdle in the hallways. However, Charlotte said to leave her be- she isn't harming anything.

And to think people say she's heartless…

She holds off answering Addison as long as she can. It's weird. She usually just says what has to be said. _It's an acclaimed, hereditary gift. _But this is different. This is Pete we're talkin' about. So she finds herself unfastening her mask and watching the way the material crinkles as she bunches it up in her hand. She scratches behind her head, lets out a deep breath and puts on her 'Doctor-Face.' _It's the 'Poker face' of the medical world. _She remembers hearing that at some point in her residency.

"It's slow-goin'," she confesses. "The damage is more extensive than we originally thought. His valves were leakin'- blood was comin' from every which way. But, Pete's a fighter, and Sam is workin' wonders. He's nearly half-way through. Hopefully it'll be smooth sailin' from here on out."

"God," Addison exhales. "But he's going to pull through…"

Silence.

"Charlotte," She stresses, " he's _going_ to pull through?"

"I don't sugar-coat Addison. You know that. I can't see the future, I don't know how all this will turn out. But, I _am _confident that Pete's receivin' the best of care, and that he has the fight in him to survive. For now, that'll have to be enough."

Addison responds with a slow nod, turns her head, and Charlotte knows she is starting to cry. The best she can do, Charlotte's not the best in these kinds of situations, is give her a sympathetic squeeze on the shoulder.

"Look, I'm gonna make a quick call. Can you please tell Violet and Cooper what's goin' on?"

"Yeah. And you tell Pete we're all out here waiting to see him when he wakes up."

Charlotte fakes a smile and murmurs that she will. They start to walk their separate ways, but Addison suddenly remembers something and stops. "Hey Charlotte? Have you talked to Sheldon? I called him a while ago… I thought he'd here by now."

"I talked to him." She covers. "He's fine- just had to do somethin'. I'll call and bring him up-to-date."

Charlotte has her cell in hand when she expressly turns her back to Addison. It was off, reserving the little battery it had left, and she was impatiently watching the phone start to glow and go through it's annoyin' boot-up. It's slow, even slower with this low of a charge, but _good lord_ it's always slow. That's why she hardly ever turns it off. She read once that that was bad for the battery- leavin' it on all the time. The manual recommends for it to be turned off during "long periods of non-use." _Ha, like that's gonna happen. _Waitin' for it to turn on the next morning would be utter torture. She would _gladly _just invest in a new battery if it ever came down to it.

The phone was finally ready to go, the battery symbol mockingly flashing in the corner. She dials Sheldon and silently promises that she'll plug the damn thing in if it just makes it through this one stupid call.

He quickly answers, and the exchange is short. She doesn't have much to say, nor the time or battery life to engage in real conversation. She's ready to hang up when the lights in the hall starts to flash, alarms begin to sound, and someone is hollering the _one _room number she was pleading it wouldn't be.

"Crap" she mutters to herself.

"Get here as soon as you both can. I'll make sure Cooper keeps in touch." She hangs up without so much as saying goodbye and half-hazardly ties the mask back on her face, all while running back through the doors. She peeks her head in, not scrubbed in yet, "Sam?"

"Bleeders," he yells. "I need extra hands."

Charlotte figures he's talking to the surrounding nurses, but quickly scrubs in anyway, ordering for more blood as she does so.

She enters in a rush, gets closer, pushes her hands through the mess and gasps when she sees the fountain of blood.

"Oh my God, Sam."

This was worse than before.

"What's happening? Where's the source of the bleedin'?"

Sam doesn't answer. He keeps his attention on Pete, and Pete alone. He's trying to ignore the haunting mantra that has returned- the wailing alarms, the distressful shouts.

And then that mantra becomes a faster, even eerier one.

"He's in V-fib! Get the internal paddles!"

Moments later, he loses rhythm all together.

* * *

><p>Another hour and a half had passed.<p>

Addison, Violet and Cooper are sitting quietly in the lobby. Cooper is squeezing Violet's arm, her fingers drumming on his thigh. Addison's staring at the clock. No one has spoken since she fist came into the room and repeated what Charlotte had told her.

Violet had sobbed and Cooper tried his best to comfort her. He was shushing her, holding her, raking his fingers through her hair. But the look on his face wasn't all that comforting. Addison sat, with a similar expression, speechless and alone. They had all told themselves that the surgery would be a no-brainer. Complications didn't even cross their minds. Sam was going to get in there, fix Pete, and that'd be that. Charlotte didn't say much, but her tone wasn't promising. Addison knew something wasn't right.

So since then, there has been quiet.

They are all waiting. Desperately, yearningly waiting for Charlotte and Sam to come out with smiles on their faces. To tell them they were worried for nothing, that Pete was perfectly fine.

Instead, it's Sheldon and Amelia who walk in next; Sitting a few seats apart, asking if there's any new news. Amelia assures Violet that Lucas is safe in his crib.

No one responds with real words. Just noises and gestures.

No one even asks why they coincidentally showed up at the same time.

And then it was yet another half-an-hour of sitting in silence before Sam and Charlotte appear.

They weren't smiling. They just look drained.

Everyone jumps up, but no one says anything. They're scared to ask, so they rely on facial expressions.

"He's in ICU." Sam at last informs, and the ice-cold tension in the room thaws a bit.

"The surgery went as well as could be expected. The blood flow was restored and his heart's looking good."

"Oh thank God." Violet cries as she wraps her arms around Sam.

Cooper goes straight to Charlotte and embraces her in a hug, holding her tight against him. She's taken off guard but achingly melts into him, like she forgot how great his arms feel around her. Not caring what was said earlier or even that they were in public.

Nothin' like seein' a friend's heart stop to put things in perspective.

Sam is surrounded by the group, getting deserved praises, but he doesn't look so happy to hear them.

He backs up. "Pete's alive. And that's what's important." Sam affirms. "But, there were complications."

The room goes quiet again.

"He coded, Violet. We had to use the paddles. And he lost a lot of blood-"

"I ordered a blood transfusion." Charlotte adds, stepping away from Cooper and placing her hand on Violet's arm.

"Aortic dissection," Sam continues. "can sometimes happen after bypass surgery. But in Pete's case, I noticed it while operating. I corrected the problem with a synthetic graft. It did the trick and it's holding up nicely. But we'll have to keep an eye on him."

"It's good he spotted it," Addison points out, trying to keep positivity in the air.

"If not I would've had to reopen." Sam agrees. "That would have been a lot on him."

"He's _alive_, Violet." Cooper emphasizes.

She looks from Cooper to Sam, and almost in a whisper asks, "Can I see him?"

"Of course, I'll take you. We'll talk more later." Sam answers while escorting her to her husband.

Cooper drapes his arms around Charlotte again, this time from the back, and she squirms a bit, not entirely appreciating the stance they're displaying. But he's unwilling to let her go and she'll make an exception.

Amelia makes eye contact with Charlotte, just for a moment, makes a comment about her and Addison needing some coffee, and storms off. Sheldon gives Charlotte an apologetic look as he follows closely behind.

"What was that about?" Cooper inquisitively mumbles in her ear.

"Evidently their thirsty... or in dire need of caffeine."

He chuckles and pecks the top of her head, swaying his hips so that she is swaying too.

"You're awfully lovey." She sneers, but she's not necessarily complaining.

His hands go up her side, to her shoulders and wordlessly he urges her to turn and face him. "I just want to make sure you know how much I love you." His thumb grazes against her cheek.

She scoffs at his shameful cheesiness and shakes her head. "You're somethin' you know that."

He flashes his famous goofy grin, that's par for the course after she makes a comment like that, and he leans in to kiss her. Just a soft one. No tongue or biting or groping. Just enough to somewhat express the flood of feelings flowing through him. Her eyes smile as his lips brush against hers and he cant help it, he roughens the kiss, pulls her so that she's closer, and breathes out a laugh as he watches her glance left and right. She's making sure there's no audience- also par for the course. When she's sure no one's around, she wraps her arm around his neck and indulges herself. Her eyes close, his stay open watching her wantonly, and she must feel him staring because her lids flutter open and she pulls away.

"What?" Her tone almost cautious.

"What? I can't look at you?"

She's smiling again, her finger toying with his hair. "Look all you want," she pulls away, "but no more touchin' til we get home. Besides, I'm beginning to feel that dire need for caffeine."

"Then I guess we should get some" he snickers, leaning in for one last kiss before reaching for his coat. "You must be beat."

"I am," she agrees. "But I feel even more emotionally drained. It was scary in there Coop."

"It was scary out here," Cooper counters, "not knowing what was going on in there. Watching Violet."

They're walking now. She's undoing her ponytail and he's throwing his coat over her. The scrubs are short-sleeved and looking at her small, bare arms is making him cold.

"She was a wreck. I felt bad, I didn't really know what to do… how to help. I mean, if that was you in there-" he stops himself. He doesn't even want to think about something like that happening. "I mean…" he tries again, "you're my everything. I, I just can't imagine what was going through her mind." Though he did have an idea. He remembered the drive from the bar to the hospital after hearing Charlotte was attacked. He had never felt so helpless and terrified in his life. But, he wasn't going to bring that up.

"Am I?" She quietly asks, her voice barely loud enough to break his train of thought. She stops walking and removes herself from his grip.

"Are you what?"

She takes a deep breath, not wanting to repeat herself, or bring this up now, but too late for that. Timing was never her thing.

"Am I your _everything_?"

He's dumbfounded. And he doesn't try to hide it either.

"What? Charlotte, of course you are… wait is this a Violet thing because-"

"No." She stops him. "No, this is not a Violet thing. It's an _us _thing."

He's still dumbfounded. Actually, probably even more so now.

"An _us _thing? What do you mean an _us _thing? _Us _is fine... we're fine."

She steps in closer, looks him in the eyes, her breath and voice shakier than she'd like it to be.

"Who's Marcia?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Well say somethin'…"

Cooper had stood there unnervingly speechless for five seconds too many, and Charlotte's stomach was starting to churn. She'd finally asked the question that was haunting her for the past several hours. Pushing it to the back of her mind could only work for so long, and now, without the whole Pete ordeal distracting her, there's nothing convincing her to hold back. It's not like she's bein' unreasonable_. _All right, fine. Maybe she was going a bit ballistic for simply seein' another woman's name on his phone, but _damn it, _they said no more secrets! If there's nothin' to hide, then why didn't he just tell her? _And why is he just standin' there like a deer in the headlights?_

"Wa- okay Charlotte I've been wanting to bring this- I mean, I've been meaning to… well, well wait a minute. How do you know about Marcia? Who told you?"

Gee, nothin' is more comforting than being answered with a stammer.

"No one told me, I saw her name on your phone this mornin' when you asked me to call Violet…. And I wasn't snoopin' either. I don't do that. It was just there, clear as day."

There's _no way _he's gonna turn this around and put blame on her. _No. Way._

"Oh." Shit. Guess he should have deleted those…

_Yeah, 'oh.' _Her patience is definitely wearin' thin.

"And what do you mean who told me? Who else knows about your mystery friend?"

"No one knows." He blurts out before he can help it. But it's too late for that. He needs to come clean and be completely honest here. Besides, he's already dug himself a nice, deep, dark hole, and her glare was making him wanna jump right on in. "… except Violet."

If she was glaring before, this is a whole 'nother level. Lets just say if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man. Yeah, hiding underground sounds awfully tempting at the moment.

"Of course Violet knows. You'll keep it from me, but I'm sure your walkin', breathin', diary knows every last detail."

"Look, I know you're upset. But you have to believe me when I say that I had every intention of telling you. Tonight, actually-"

"I'm sure you were…"

"No, I'm serious. I was going to tell you tonight."

"Well why put it off any longer? You know what they say, no time like the present."

Cooper steps into her, as close as she'll allow him to get, and with the sweetest, softest tone utters, "I just don't think _now_, after everything that's happened, is really the best time to be having this conversation."

The distance returns between them as Charlotte backs up and raises her voice, "Oh that's rich. You're always raggin' on me for walkin' away from a conversation when I don't feel like talkin', but it's okay when you do it-"

"It's not like that… this is different Charlotte. We'll talk about it when-"

"Cooper, stop."

The anger in her voice is gone, and the murderous scowl she was wearing had melted away. Now there's just this vulnerable pout, and it's killing him. He prefers the scowl. He doesn't like seeing her like this. Guilt's taking over, and it's agonizing. She's not looking at him. Her stare has wandered to the side and her bottom lip's quivering the way it does when she's trying desperately to hold herself together. And now, Cooper wants two things:

One, to hug her. He always has the urge to hold her when she get's like this. It's instinctive. But he also knows better than to violate her personal space when she's pissed. It usually doesn't end well.

And two, to know why she's getting so worked up over this. He hasn't even told her what he's been dreading to say.

Finally, she takes a steadying breath, looks him square in the eye, and with an unsettling amount of certainty asks, "Do you have feelings for her?"

Cooper was heartbroken and offended. He couldn't believe she was asking him such a crazy question. "What? No! No, I do not have feelings for her. God, how could you even think something like that?"

"What would you think?" Her voice was quiet- pained. "If you saw another man's name appear a handful of times on my phone, if it was me that was workin' late every night and avoidin' telling you who this guy was… What exactly would you think?"

A valid point. Great, as if he didn't feel bad enough.

"Charlotte, I love _you_. _Only_ you. Just because Billy hurt you like that doesn't mean I ever will. I couldn't- I literally could _not _do that to you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. You think I'd screw this up?" He smiles, shakes his head, " I know I can be an idiot, but I'd never be that stupid. Give me some credit here."

She visibly relaxes- lets her shoulders drop, blows out a puff of air, the corners of her lips curl upward just enough to slightly mend Cooper's guilty conscience. The tension has somewhat diminished, and he hopes she's comfortable with him touching her now because his hands are impulsively moving up to cup her jaw.

He's genuinely surprised when she lets him. He had fully expected her to make some sly remark on how he wasn't gonna get off that easy- withdraw, give him a death stare- something to that effect. Instead, she places her hands on his, nods, and tenderly repeats, "Then who is she?"

"Promise me you won't get mad," he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers. "I did this for you."

Now, she pulls away, dropping her hands to her thighs- keeping their fingers reassuringly intertwined. "Did what?"

Cooper leads them farther against the wall for more seclusion, looks around, checks that they're alone, and whispers, "Marcia leads a support group for sexual assault survivors." He pauses, studying her expression, seeing if it was safe to continue. "Violet looked around, she thinks this group would be a good fit for you." He pauses again, wondering what she's thinking. Her face stays emotionless and he hates when she gets like this. He's never sure how to respond. She remains silent, so he guesses he should just keep going. "I've been worried about you, and I know you hate when I openly admit that. But, you need help coping- _help _that, as much as I try, I just can't give you. I don't know what you're seeing when you wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I can't imagine the thoughts you must have, or the pain you must feel. What you need is to be in a room with people who _do _know what it's like. You go to your NA meetings and you swear by those… this is the same idea. It's a safe place."

"I don't want another safe place," she disputes.

Not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, but at least she's talking.

"I already have a safe place. It's at home, with _you_. That's all I need."

"It's not though Charlotte. Don't you see that? Last night you-"

"Last night I had a bad dream. Those happen."

"I know. But I saw the look on your face. I saw how scared you were. That wasn't just any nightmare, that was _your_ nightmare. And I don't want you having to relive that night after night."

"I don't. It only happens every once in a while. Just like my cravings. Just because I go to meetings doesn't mean I never crave a magic pill. There's no cure for these sorts of things Cooper. Sitting around a campfire listenin' to other women's' horror stories… that's just not gonna help me."

"It's not a cure, but when you feel a craving coming on, you go to a meeting. And they help you. This will give you a place to go when you're feeling… whatever you're feeling."

"I'm not interested."

"Violet and I met with Marcia a few times already. She's great. A normal, nice, down-to-earth person. I told her about what you've been experiencing and she was very confident that group therapy would help you."

"You what?"

Uh oh. This is what he was scared of.

"You talked to her about me? In front of Violet?"

"Well, Violet wasn't there all the time. Just once or twice. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And Violet can relate… I'm sure she'd even go with you if you wanted-"

"How many times do I have to tell you Cooper? I don't want this. And I don't like you sharin' my personal life with random women, or Violet. You want to talk about _your _feelings… go right on ahead. But my thoughts are _my_ thoughts. No one else's. I thought you'd be adult enough to respect that."

She's had about enough with this conversation. She didn't need this today. How could he betray her trust like this? Now the whole world's gonna know her problems because let's face it, Violet has a big mouth. She'll feel obligated to consult with Sheldon and he'll say somethin' to someone else. This was the last thing she needed. She doesn't want pity stares or inspirational chats. She just wants to move on- handle her feelins' her own way. Is that so much to ask?

"I'm done with this." She barks, walking away, but Cooper grabs her by the arm, stopping her, trying to get her to absorb what he's saying. "Char, I would never, ever force you to do something you don't want to do. I just want to make sure you're okay. When you hurt, I hurt. It _kills _me to see you so afraid, so determined to act like everything's fine. You shouldn't have to deal with this by yourself- no one should. I'm trying to do what's best for you. Maybe if you just sat down with her once you would be more open to the-"

"Stop talkin'. I don't want to talk about this anymore. I said I'm done."

And off she goes…

Cooper leans against the wall, head back, eyes to the ceiling. He wipes his face with his hand and replays the dialogue in his head, trying to figure out where exactly everything went wrong. Charlotte's his wife- his woman. He's failed her once. He didn't protect her from the bastard that caused all of this. It wasn't his fault, but that didn't stop him from blaming himself. Seeing her continue to suffer is a constant reminder of how he messed up. Maybe if she realized how powerless he feels when she blocks him out after one of her bad nights, how excruciating it is for him to pretend he doesn't see her crying, or how hard it was for him not to kill the fucker when he was in their hospital… maybe then she'd understand that her trying this would be for the both of them.

He wants to know that he did everything he could to make Charlotte's life as perfect as possible. She deserves that. She's had enough suffering for one lifetime.

How is he going to make this right?


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** Hey guys! I just wanted to say a quick thank you to those who have been reviewing! It really does mean a lot. Anyway, hope you all aren't too depressed with this story! It will lighten up. Maybe. Happy Holidays!_

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><p>Charlotte has a delightful way of letting every Tom, Dick, and Harry around her know when she's pissed off. That's already been established, right? Well, today is no exception. The rowdy clicking and clacking of her heels can be heard echoing down each hallway (and the neighboring ones) she blusters down. She figures she's doin' everyone a favor- this way they'll hear her comin'. And unless it's somethin' she needs to sign-off on or if it's a crucial update on a patient, and assuming that they have at least the <em>slightest bit of common sense left in their narcissistic skulls<em>, the docs will be smart and stay the hell out of her way.

Nonetheless, she is here, at her hospital, supposedly workin', which means she has a job to do and people to deal with- people who don't need or deserve the evil eye or the sass she'll certainly be spewin'. So, with that thought, she veers off into the nearest ladies room, turns the deadbolt, and allows herself two minutes - _two minutes, that's all-_ to recompose. She leans against the door, crosses her arms and tries to relax, but the muffled chatter leaking through the cracks is still too close for comfort. _God, it's like solitary confinement just can not exist in her life._ Her eyes watch her feet as she approaches the sink, grips onto the ledge- bracing herself- for what, she's not exactly sure. Her lids fall shut and she stands there, listening to her breathing and the welcomed silence, really not wanting to look up.

… It's the mirrors.

She hates mirrors. Lord knows how hard she tries to avoid them anymore. When she does look into one, there's a stare-down. Charlotte King versus whoever that person is starin' back. It's miserable and foolish and she hate's feelin' this way. It brings back bad memories from her using-days. She never wanted to feel that way again, and yet here she is… feelin' it. Although this time, it's almost worse. At least then there was a good sensation to look forward to- flyin' high on meds. The comedown was a bitch. Afterward, she'd curse herself for givin' into the cravings, and more often than not, the bottle would go soarin' across the room. She'd vow that that was the last straw. No more. She's done.

And then those urges would come back. She'd be on the floor, desperately harvesting the escaped pills, hugging the orange bottle tightly in her grip, and the cycle would repeat itself. It wasn't fun. She regrets every minute of it. But at least for those few hours a day, she was… _I don't know…_ _fake-happy._

Now she has to fake bein' happy with no prescribed help. _Yay._

With every bit of power, dignity and determination she has in her, she at last lifts her heavy head, opens her eyes and studies her reflection. Her makeup isn't the best, but she hardly has any on. They left in such a frenzy this morning that she didn't even fuss with it. Her hair however, looks pretty good for being bunched up in a cap. But, her appearance isn't what she's really paying attention to.

Unfortunately, the pathetic attraction is her eyes. She used to really like her eyes. She has nice eyes. Pretty color. Expressive. Not anymore. Now they're dim, foggy. So sad. So lost. So angry.

Oh and she was tryin' real hard to be angry with Cooper. She was certainly entitled to be furious. As always, he had to go blab to stupid Violet about things that don't concern her. Plus, she didn't appreciate him makin' her a daily conversation topic with a woman she doesn't even know. That's the last thing she needed. Someone else bein' involved, knowin' her business. Damn Cooper. Her story is not his to tell. Where does the trust factor come into play here?

But… he's her husband and he's worried. He's tryin' to help. Not the best way of goin' about it, but, he had good intentions just the same. She doesn't have it in her to stay mad at him for that. Not that she won't hold it over him for a while longer.

Because she is mad. Mad that he's made her even more mad at herself.

She's been beatin' herself up for quite some time. If she was alone, single, maybe she wouldn't be so frustrated. But she's not. She has Cooper- and she's grateful- but then there's the other side of the coin. She's making him suffer and she's ashamed for hurting him, for putting all of this on his shoulders. If it was just her, she wouldn't be sharin' the pain she's feelin' with anyone else. That would make this whole thing so much more bearable.

… And now she feels bad for wishing, even if only for a second, that she didn't have Cooper in her life. She knows that there's no way in hell she would have made it through those insufferable couple of months after the… well, you know… without him. He was great, her knight in shining armor. Okay, that's a bit too cheesy for her. But, holdin' her hand at the end of the day, knowin' he was there, that he was _always_ gonna be there, that meant a lot. 

And as far as the trust factor goes, well, she guesses every day when she looks him in the eye and tells him she's fine; all those three-o'clock-in-the-mornings when he finds her pretend-sleepin' on the couch even though she's really just layin' there ponderin' how in God's name she got this way; and lets not forget those nonchalant shrugs she gives him after he questions her hour-long-showers (when she's in such a daze that forgets she's actually showering). Well, she guesses after all of that, the trust factor has pretty much been annulled.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a jiggling of the doorknob and fading footsteps. She turns on the tap, washes her hands, pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She takes in a deep breath, lets it out, and tells herself to keep it together, that it's gonna get better, even though she's not entirely convinced.

It doesn't matter.

Her two minutes are up.


	10. Chapter 10

It was seven o'clock the next morning and Charlotte was drifting in and out of sleep in her office. She was sitting at her desk, head back- cocked to the side so that she was partially laying on her ear- eyes closed, but once again, not really sleeping. Not peacefully anyway. A peaceful sleep hardly exists for her anymore, and definitely not after a day like yesterday.

Cooper and her haven't talked since that _splendid _earful in the hallway.

Well, that's not entirely true. He came into her office last night and pleadingly asked if she was ready to go.

She said no, that she'd hitch a ride with Sheldon or someone, but she knew she wasn't leavin'. She had every intention of stayin' in _her _hospital, _her _territory . She didn't have control over much anymore- her thoughts, her body, her emotions- but she's in charge here. That's somethin'.

He, of course, gave her his expert puppy dog face, once again apologized and begged her to please,_ please_ come home- they didn't have to talk about anything she didn't want to talk about- they could just forget he said anything.

But, no. Her mind was set and face-it, forgettin' is not likely. Plus, bein' around him was just _not _an option. Even during last night's short exchange she could barely look at him. The shame. The anger. The uneasiness. _Back to the shame- back to that lack of control._

Her eyes blinked open, and she caught herself staring at the same spot - _the _spot- that she had been drowsily gazing at throughout the night.

She gulps, shuts her eyes tight, and figures that she might as well go check on Pete. It's gotta be more useful than sittin' around here feelin' sorry for herself.

Violet stayed the night too, and Charlotte had peeked her head in occasionally, making sure all is well. She even threw an extra blanket over her… but if anyone asks, the nurse did it.

Apathetically, she gets up. Her body's overtired and heavy, but she ignores it. She walks to her little closet and pulls out a change of clothes- she always has a few outfits here just in case- changes, and stops by the restroom to freshen up. When she reemerges, she looks a hell of a lot more poised and alert than she feels.

It's still pretty early and the halls are not as hectic as they surely will be in the upcoming hours. When she peers into Pete's room, she's surprised to find Violet gone and the folded up blankets in her place.

_Good_.

She doesn't feel like talkin' to her anyway.

Creeping in on the balls of her feet, she approaches the end of the bed and starts to skim through Pete's charts. She reads quietly to herself as she thoroughly studies both the clipboard and the monitors, making sure everything matches up.

A low cough interrupts her work and she glances over the notes to find Pete groggily observing her. She lets out a relieved sigh, puts the clipboard back in its slot, and scoots on to the edge of the bed. "Hey there." Her voice is all soothing and gentle and Pete smiles at the warmth both her tone and her body heat provide him.

"How ya feelin'?" She asks, then tilts her head to the side and adds, "Are those drugs treatin' you alright?"

He smiles, chuckles softly, and croaks, "Perfect."

"That's what I like to hear."

They stare sweetly, attentively at each other for a moment. Charlotte's softly patting his leg when she slyly announces, "I'll make sure you get the best nurses, and if you're in any pain, speak up. Don't you dare go all macho on us."

He shakes his head, his way of saying that's not going to happen. Charlotte smiles in return, nods her head once more in approval and winks, "Good."

She gets up and tells him to get some rest, that Violet should be back soon, but before she has a chance to leave, he coyly remarks, "You didn't go home last night."

Charlotte stops in the door frame and turns back around to face him, arcs her brow.

"Excuse me?"

Pete clears his throat and repeats himself, this time louder, though she clearly heard him the first time.

"_You_ didn't go home last night."

She inches back into the room and gives him a certain look- he knows that means he better continue.

Sure enough, she echoes his thought with a, "What do you know?"

With a smirk and a shake of his head he replies, "Don't you think it's sad that you have to get information from a guy who had a heart attack and major surgery only 24 hours ago? Doesn't seem right."

"With the spouses we have, nothin' surprises me anymore…" and he has to give her that one.

"I heard Violet on the phone sometime during the night. She was naturally giving one of her 'what you need to do' speeches, and your name came up. I knew she had to be talking to Cooper. Who else?" He starts to cough and Charlotte holds out her hand, telling him that's enough talking for now. She doesn't want him overexerting himself.

Pete watches as she purses her lips and turns around, walking toward the exit. His eyelids are droopy and he lets them drop- he's exhausted. The door shut- he heard the click- but then the sound of her heels is present, and his eyes pop open to see her still in the room. She parks herself back on the bed, sitting so that she's facing him, and whispers, "We had a little tiff, and I'm not gonna go into detail, but-"

She stops, lets her eyes wander the room, trying to choose her words carefully.

"but, I just couldn't face him. I don't know how to… I don't know what to say."

He feels for her. If anyone knows about fights and marital problems, it's him.

And he has to admit, Charlotte opening up to him (well, as much as Charlotte King does open up) is rather flattering. He knows she doesn't do that much.

So he butters her up with a, "I'm sure it's all Cooper's fault" and she does give him a light laugh.

But her smile withers away and he knows what she's thinking. It's not _all _Cooper's fault. She's wearing a look of guilt.

So he goes on, "Look, I don't know what happened- it's none of my business. But, don't be a Violet. She'll constantly shrink me, on _her _terms. But then when it's my turn- when _I _need to confront _her_, she takes off. She flees."

He pauses for a moment, more for him than for her. His mouth is like a desert, it's getting harder for him to talk and he was straining to begin with.

"Just don't flee," he emphasizes, "relationships takes communication and I know that's not your strong suit. But if you want your marriage to work, you can't shut Cooper out. It's not fair. That's just as bad as fleeing."

Charlotte places her hand on top of his and delicately squeezes his wrist. He smiles and she can tell he's tired.

So she faintly smiles back at him, repeats that he needs to get some rest, props the door open and leaves.

She's off to get a hold of Cooper.

It's time for her to step-up, because she will _not _be fleeing.

_And in no damn way _is she 'a Violet.'


	11. Chapter 11

Coffee.

She needs coffee.

Well, what she _needs _is to have a heart-to-heart with Coop, squeeze in a couple hours of _actual _sleep, and to get some damn paperwork done. It's not all that gratifyin' to see how far her typically immaculate desk has immersed in that turbulent sea of files and forms.

But momentarily, she'll gladly settle for_—_ or more like, _prefer—_ a good ol' strong, velvety, extra-hot cup of coffee.

And it's gotta be caffeinated. _Just the idea of decaf is nauseatingly useless._

So, she opts that she should stop by her office, grab her wallet, and head out to the cart in the courtyard. Their coffee is far superior to the bland, watered-down crud they have in the cafeteria. Why they continue to serve it that way, after her multiple complaints, is beyond her.

She's looking down, straightening out her nametag when she opens the door, and is pleasantly surprised with the overwhelming, heavenly aroma of vanilla and espresso that has occupied the room. She's less surprised to see Cooper sitting rather timidly in the armchair alongside her desk. He's looking up at her with those irresistible, apologetic eyes of his and God, how that look is pathetically endearing. She can't hold back the coy smile creeping across her face, and truthfully, she doesn't really want to. She's tired of all the tension. Besides, she has a feelin' that the conversation ahead of them will be crappy enough as it is.

Cooper instantly relaxes once he spots her smile, and the vibe in the room is suddenly more comfortable. While waiting for her, he sat imagining ways this whole confrontation could go. None of them were encouraging. He fully expected her first remark to be an unfriendly one, but what she says is, "You brought me coffee. I could kiss you." And her tone is becomingly affectionate.

Cooper's visibly, and quite adorably, caught off guard by this turn of events. He clears his throat, nearly spills the drink as he fumbles for it— Charlotte quickly steadies it by placing her hand over his— and he eagerly answers with a, "Yeah, your favorite." Now that it's securely in his grip, he formally, and very cautiously, hands her the bribery, "A non-fat, extra-hot, extra-shot, vanilla latte. I figured you wouldn't refuse one of these babies."

"You figured right," she accedes, her voice muffled by the lid already pressed to her lips. She takes a sip, and for a second, she loses herself in the holy goodness. This is _just_ what she was craving.

Seeing how she's clearly pleased with his offering, Cooper decides that it's safe to ask, "Can I get that kiss then?"

She hesitates for a moment, but leans in, gives him a peck on the cheek, and rounds the desk to sit in her chair.

Okay, a peck. Not exactly what he was hoping for, but he'll take it.

There's a bag in her chair, and she lifts it up to examine it.

"I brought you a change of clothes, your tooth brush and a few other odds and ends," Cooper sputters as he retakes his seat. "I wasn't sure what you had here."

She moves the bag aside and nods appreciatively, "Thanks."

And here's that awkward silence she's been anticipatin'. They sit there for a painfully long minute before Charlotte finally speaks up.

"I'm gonna talk about what happened yesterday…"

"You don't have to. If you're — "

"I want to." She assures. "But I need you to just be quiet and listen. No interruptions."

Cooper straightens up, slowly moves his head up and down, and gestures her to start.

"Well first of all, I'm not mad. Not at you anyway. I'm mad at the world. I… I'm mad that I'm puttin' this all on you—"

"Char you're not—"

"I said _no _interruptions."

"Right. Sorry."

Once she's sure he's going to stay quiet, she takes a deep breath and continues, "I guess I'm just fed up with feelin' this way. Things were good. And I don't know what happened. I'm frustrated because I don't usually dwell on things. When I fall off the horse, I usually just brush myself off and get back on. But this time, for some reason, I can't get a grip on the reins."

She can tell it's killin' Cooper not bein' able to say anything, not bein' able to comfort her. But she's not done yet. If she stops now, she won't ever finish.

"I'm so lucky to have you. I don't want you to think, _not for one minute_, that I don't appreciate you— because I do, Coop. You've been there for me like no one else has. But you can't possibly understand the guilt and the shame I feel for draggin' the one person I care about the most… through the mud. I'm makin' you go through all this sufferin' with me. I'm _hurtin' _you. Unintentionally, I know. But I'm inflictin' pain just the same."

Cooper's squirming now. She knows he's doing all he can to stay quiet. His chin is resting on his palm, his mouth hidden behind his curved fingers, his eyes getting glossy as they stare right into hers.

Still, she goes on.

"What you brought up yesterday just reminded me of all that. I knew it, deep down. But, your words made it real. And that's not necessarily a bad thing! We're not supposed to run from our problems, we're supposed to face them… and we both know I'm not doin' a very good job of that. I just don't think group therapy is the way to go about it. I don't… I don't do that. Hell, I'm havin' a hard enough time as it is just sayin' this in front of you. And I know you think it'll be just like one of my NA meetings, but it's not. This is… _different_."

She takes another shaky breath and swallows the sob that's been slowly making it's way up her throat. _No cryin'._ She had long since promised herself that she wouldn't cry.

That being said, Cooper isn't having much success in that area. He's getting teary. So she waves her hand as a way of letting him know he can say what's on his mind.

"Char," he whispers, and she's already starting to lose the battle against that stupid lump in her throat. She swallows harder, louder, and blinks back some tears. Cooper starts to get up, but Charlotte gives him a cautionary look and violently shakes her head.

She's not ready for that.

He sits back down and begins with, "_You _are _not_ to blame for _any_ of this. You hear me? It's all him. It's all Lee. _Not you._ You're not the monster here. He is... Charlotte, tell me you get that. _Please. Tell me_. _You get that— _Say yes, nod your head, give me something."

She doesn't move for a moment, and he repeats her name louder, sterner. Her shoulders heave once, twice, her eyes firmly shut, and she nods. She does know that.

She's pretty sure she knows that.

Cooper nods with her, lets out an equally shaky breath, and replies, "Good. Okay." He stops briefly to replay her speech in his head and then adds, "And sometimes people need a little help getting back on the horse. That's nothing to be ashamed of. After everything you've been through, that's normal. The only person who expected you to get right back on that horse is _you. _You're strong, you're brave, you're self-sufficient, you're hellishly stubborn and I love that about you, but sometimes you need to let your guard down. You need to accept help, Char. _Real _help. Just like you wish Amelia would get help… I wish you would get help. If not with Marcia's group, then somewhere else. I need to know that I pushed you to get all the support you need."

Charlotte's staring, listening to Cooper. She's not too fond of how many times he used the word "help." But she can't really argue it. That would just bring them right back to where they were yesterday. So, she remains mute and concentrates on keeping her expression blank. If she doesn't know how exactly she's feeling, why should he?

"And Marcia is really nice. I would really like you to give her a chance. Who knows? Maybe you'll like it. She told me everyone in the group has gone through… something similar to what you've gone through… and that the people there are really great and helpful and that they've all become good friends. This could be good for you, Charlotte. I have a good feeling about this. The only reason why I didn't tell you about Marcia sooner was because I wanted to get to know her a bit. I wanted to talk to her, make sure she's good enough for you. And the only reason Violet was involved was because I didn't know where else to turn. She used to help out with these kind of support groups and I thought she could point me in the right direction. She found Marcia. She just wanted to help."

Cooper knows she's not going to let him ramble on for much longer, especially not too much more about this Marcia idea.

Instead he gets up, ignores her poor attempt to intimidate him, and walks around the desk until he's at her side. He swivels the chair so that she's facing him, crouches down, and makes sure they're eye-to eye. His hand are on her hips, pulling her even closer to him as he says, "And I _do _understand the pain of watching the person you care most about suffer. And I _do _understand that feeling of blame... Because everyday I watch you suffer." He pauses, and Charlotte watches his eyes scan the floor. "And everyday," he lowers his voice to a whisper, "I think about how I wasn't here that night to protect you."

He looks back into her eyes, cups her face and stresses, "_Everyday,_ _I feel blame_."

That's all it takes for Charlotte to break down. Her arms wrap around Cooper's neck and she can feel him trembling too. She has this sudden fear of someone walkin' in on them, catchin' them bawlin' like two, over-sized kids. But when she feels the warmth of his breath against her neck, his innocent, consoling kisses on her cheek, how safe she feels in his embrace… she decides she doesn't want to push him away. This is the closest she's felt to him in a while. In fact, she pulls him even tighter against her .

This is her accepting the help he has to offer.

It isn't much… but, at least it's a start.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Happy New Year guys! So I thought that I'd better start off the New Year with a little positivity... hence this short, cutesy chapter. You have to love Charper when they banter! Much love from me to you and once again, thanks for the lovely reviews! Xoxo

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><p>After shedding some tears; after somehow managing to switch positions so that she was sitting sideways on Cooper's lap, her head comfortably situated on his shoulder; after savoring the contentment of being able to sit there, in blissful silence, while he idly ran his fingers through her hair…<p>

After all of that, Charlotte _really_, _really _hates to move.

She _really_, _really _hates to have to do anything.

She would just like to sit there, and relax, and relish in the moment.

But life's not all butterflies and rainbows— boy does she know that. And those mountainous stacks of papers, plastered with those taunting, blank spaces where her signature's supposed to be, are starin' her right in the face. Plus, if she stays like this for much longer, she knows, _knows,_ she's gonna pass out from exhaustion. She can already feel that restful, tranquil heaviness conquering her limbs.

And now she's suddenly aware that she's surrounded by nothing but blackness.

Her body jolts, her eyes blink open and she catches Cooper smirking, watching her.

"Tired?" Though it's more of an observance than a question.

She yawn, clears her throat, croaks, "Very."

He begins to reel her in closer, getting her in a warmer, snugger position, but, much to his dissatisfaction, she shakes her head and says, "Don't. I can't do this right now."

"You've been here for over twenty-four hours, you earned a nap."

But she stops him yet again, kisses his temple, and sluggishly pulls herself away from his grip. "Coop, really."

Groaning in protest, Cooper clings to her hand, massages her wrist with his thumb as she stands up. He's feeling brave. He even persists after she casts him a look, one of those looks with the raised eyebrows and the biting of her tongue— the '_don't start with me' _look.

"Don't you have work to do?" She offers while feebly trying to separate her fingers from his.

He shrugs, "No patients. I just had a few basic check-ups scheduled for today and I canceled them when the whole Pete thing happened."

She nods and conceeds, "Well, I wouldn't mind gettin' out of here early."

Cooper mimics her nod, but his is enhanced with eagerness.

"But, you know that means you're gonna have to let go of my hand so I can scribble my John Hancocks on these." She yanks her hand away. "Now get your butt outta my chair."

"Lucky for you," he reveals, patting his hands on his lap, "the comfiest seat in the house is available."

"You're somethin' else." She remarks and, while snickering, she swings her thumb over shoulder and repeats, "_Up_!"

Playfully rolling his eyes, he does as he's told and she takes his place, pulling the chair closer to her desk. She looks up, meaning to check the time, but what catches her attention is the reflection in the black computer screen. The image is distorted, but it's clear enough for her to make-out the puffiness under her eyes, the dark smudge of smeared mascara in the crease, and besides being disgusted with her appearance, she's reminded that they never really did finish the conversation. They got distracted by the waterworks. But she's not really wanting to bring it up again.

"God, why didn't ya tell me I look like a clown?" She grumbles while reaching for her purse, then pulling out her compact.

"Oh give me a break. You look fine."

She flashes a glare in his direction as she brushes some beige powder on her cheeks, and he has to laugh.

"Yeah laugh it up, Coop," she teases. "You'll be going home alone again tonight."

"No, no. You're coming home, even if that means me carrying you out of here over my shoulder." He leans against the wall at just the right angle that he can see her face in the her hand-held mirror. "You know, I couldn't even _sleep_ without you next to me last night. The bed was too empty. I couldn't take it."

The teetering motion of her hand slowed and her eyes meet with his. He loves that look. That _'that was the most perfect thing to say, I'm so in love with you' _look. Charlotte may not be much for verbalizing her feelings, but she sure makes up for it with her face and it's many expressions.

"I'm glad you didn't go out for a replacement." She drawls, all in good fun of course. They were in need of some good fun.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say that…"

And the next thing he knows she's standing again, backhanding his chest and calling him a vulgar name. Her make up is perfect again, all traces of that somber talk, gone— all that's there is his Charlotte.

The mood is light and frisky and he has this overwhelming itch to take advantage of this sprightly circumstance and, _you know_, pick her up…

toss her on that inviting loveseat in the corner…

and…

_Oh, come on! _That _is _why they call it a _'love' _seat right?

He must not be all that inconspicuous about his thoughts because Charlotte leans in, wraps her arms around his waste, gives him a suggestive look, brushes her lips against his and whispers, "Don't you even think about it."

As if she wasn't teasing him enough as it is, her hands run down his back, and then a little lower, until they're groping him... and it feels nice. _Too_ nice.

Man, he's missed this.

"Think about what?" He asks innocently. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

Her grip tightens, he flinches, she arches her brow and sasses, "I see you eyeing that sofa…"

He smiles and she disappoints him by restating, "But I told you, I have to get this work done."

She kisses him— _really _kisses him— then pulls away, sits back down and grabs a pen.

Cooper's standing there hard-up, bamboozled, and feeling exceedingly cheated.

Charlotte loves it.

She snickers to herself as she pretends not to notice his dumbstruck look, and begins initialing forms.

"Why don't you go say hi to Pete while I do this." She suggests still not looking at him. "I shouldn't be too long."

He's quiet for another moment before he kisses the top of her head and murmurs, "You're such a tease."

Resting her chin on her shoulder, she coyly bats her eyelashes and while matching his tone, she counters with, "I have _no_ idea what you're talkin' about."

He shakes his head at her and before he leaves the room, he turns back to look at her and says, "Meet me when you're done… you _tease._" He winks and makes a quick exit before she has a chance to answer back.

She laughs, not only at his silly antics, but also because she noticed that his lips were redder than normal. Her lipstick must've rubbed off.

Hey, he didn't tell her when she looked like a clown so this is payback! He's acting like one anyway... so it's actually rather fitting.

Besides, this way Pete will get an idea on how their little chat went.

And if that's not enough of a hint, she's sure he'll hear (_or more like, overhear_) all the details soon enough.


	13. Chapter 13

Alrighty folks, here we are once again taking this little trip with 'Charper' or 'Charcoop' or whatever your little hearts desire to call them. I just wanted to make a quick note that this does get a tad sexual towards the end. Don't go into that dirty, dark place in your mind just yet... it's not much. I'm just kind of testing the waters here. If y'all are into that(?), I'll add some more. And for those who are craving some angst, hang in there, it's coming. Love the reviews! Mucho thanks! Xoxo

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><p>"<em>No <em>Violet, it's 'Chugga chugga _wheesh!_' _'Wheesh'— _With a _W._"

Charlotte wrinkles her nose as she peeks her head in the hospital room. Cooper and Violet are laughing while Pete keeps talking right on over them— and lucky him, he looks like he's floatin' on cloud nine.

"Do I even wanna ask?" She chuckles as she walks in, checking the monitors for good measure.

"Charlotte! There you are. Why did you leave this guy…" he stops and exaggeratingly points at Cooper, who in return throws his hands defensively in the air, "… why'd you leave him here for so long? He's a jackass."

"Hey!" Cooper shouts, grinning at him, at the girls, then back to Pete. "You're the one singing about a train here."

While heading to sit on the arm of Cooper's chair, Charlotte whispers to Pete, loud enough so that everyone can hear, "I know he is, I live with him."

Pete get's a real laugh out of that and Violet shares in the fun. Cooper isn't laughing, but is squinting at Charlotte— still grinning though, he's being playful — and she smacks his cheek lightly before sitting down.

"Pete, why don't you serenade Charlotte?" Violet throws out there, still snickering at the exchange. Charlotte grins in Pete's direction, "I do love musicians." She winks at Coop, rubs his leg, turns back to Pete, and prepares herself for what will surely be the train wreck (_pun intended_) that lies ahead.

"Cute Violet," Pete remarks and then questions, "Do you watch Thomas the Train Engine?"

He's looking at Charlotte now, and though she can't believe he's askin' her such a stupid question, (God those drugs _must_ be good) she can't say she's not amused.

"Haven't caught it lately." She shrugs, shakes her head, totally playing along, and Cooper is loving this witty mood of hers. He wonders how long it's going to stick around.

"It's Lucas's favorite," Violet clarifies and Pete interjects, rather loudly, "Exactly! It's Lucas's favorite and he likes when you sing it to him. But you always sing it wrong. It's 'chugga chugga _wheesh_. Chugga chugga _wheesh_. These are the sounds that the engines make.'"

The other three start laughing uncontrollably, they can't help it. It's how his face looks so friggen' serious, his tone so matter-of-fact, like it was a topic of daily importance or something. And the funniest part of all… _I mean..._ the real kicker of the whole situation is that now Pete's lookin' at them like _they're _the ones who have completely fallen off their rockers! It's just too much!

Cooper's hands are gripping onto Charlotte's hips, keeping her balanced on the relatively slim armrest. She uses his support to scoot back a bit, takes a steadying breath, and finally just _has _to ask, "Why? Does Violet get the words wrong?"

"Every time. She says '_cheesh' _with a _'ch'_. It's _wheesh_— with a '_wh._'"

"Well for God's sake, everyone knows that." Charlotte concedes, and she does it with such unbelievable sincerity that Cooper gets the giggles all over again.

Pete however, is oblivious to the sarcasm. He's just nodding his head in agreement, blurting out a, "_Thank you_!"

Satirically smug, Charlotte glances towards Violet who is just shaking her head in response.

"Okay, Pete. Now I know."

They all share a final chuckle, even Pete's laughing, though Charlotte's convinced that he's not entirely sure why.

And then Charlotte's reminded that she's tired. She's starting to feel exhaustion take over her body again, can't hold back the yawn that's suddenly creeping up her throat, and Cooper takes that as his cue.

"Did you get your work done?"

"Work is never done. But I got through enough to count the day as at least _somewhat_ productive. I'm ready to get the hell out of here whenever you are."

Cooper wastes no time in getting up, pulling Charlotte up with him, and nods his head to the door saying something about how she has to be tired and that she should get some rest. If she wasn't this damn tired, she would probably fight him on that— not because she doesn't want to go, she just really hates bein' told what to do. She could easily say that she's gone longer than this without sleep before. She has. Way longer. But here she is choking back another yawn, and she decides that she doesn't have the energy. So she just follows his lead, says her goodbyes and waits by the far wall as Coop and Pete get one last banter in.

Then good ol' Pete just has to shout out, "Don't forget what we talked about," and she nonchalantly nods in acknowledgment before making a quick exit.

Of course— _The man is doped up on morphine, rambling on about a talking train, but of course he had enough rationale (or lack of it) to bring that up. _

"What was that about?" Cooper asks as they head down the hall.

"I'm guessing the '_wh' _sound." And they both snicker, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

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><p>When they enter the loft, Cooper's still singing that lovely train song —well, the two lines that he knows— just to annoy the living crap out of Charlotte.<p>

It's working.

She was giving him the glare the whole drive home, murmuring a few _shut up's_ and _quit it's_, and he was getting a real kick out of it. He was even emphasizing the '_wh' _sound in the same manner Pete was and Charlotte couldn't shake the feelin' that this is gonna be one of those ditties that will be in their heads for the remainder of the night.

God, it better not be.

"If you keep singin' that… you _will _regret it!" She warns, her finger an inch away from his nose.

"Fine." He consents, his hand reaches for hers, pulls her finger to his lips, gives it a light kiss. "I'll stop." Content with his word, Charlotte saunters to her desk and drops her purse and tote onto it's surface. Cooper has moseyed on over to the kitchen, opening the fridge, scanning for food, or maybe a beer. She's about to sort through her bag when she overhears Cooper humming that same damn tune, and she sharply looks up to catch him sneering at her over his shoulder.

_Oh, he's testy tonight. _

He immediate faces forward, his shoulders heaving up and down, chuckling at his own immaturity. She's had just about enough of this, and she smiles slyly as she sneaks up behind him, swiftly stretches her arm around his waist and grabs him— not in the gentlest of ways either. She smirks when he jumps, his hand grasping for her forearm, she tightens her grip, and out slips a small yelp.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," she gives another harsh squeeze, "I said, you'll _regret _it."

He anxiously nods, and now she's the one acting cheeky as she mockingly hums the tune, upping the pressure of her hold on him every few beats.

When she knows he can't take it anymore, when he's crying out her name, she slackens her grip, and runs her fingers slowly off of him, onto his thigh and then removes her hand altogether.

"Glad we've reached an understandin'."

And then she's walking away like nothing, getting back to whatever she was planning to do before that brilliant idea popped into her head.

Cooper, on the other hand, is still in shock of what just happened. He's holding onto the refrigerator door, the drifting, cold air definitely not helping the situation.

That was unmistakably the naughty side of Charlotte— the side that's been in hiding for the past year or so. His body is shuddering with the longing of contact, and as if she had the intent to push him completely over the edge, she shouts, "I'm gonna hop in the shower."

He gulps.

Charlotte. _Naughty _Charlotte. _Naughty _Charlotte naked... _wet_.

Naked and— and _naughty_.

No way in hell is he missing out on this. There's a _specific_ _something_, a getting-harder-by-the-minute_-specific-something, _that just won't let that happen.


	14. Chapter 14

Aren't you guys lucky! I'm gonna talk your heads off again! Okay no, not really. But I did want to warn that this chapter is a bit smutty. I had many private requests to spice it up a bit, and being the crowd-pleaser I am, I just _had_ to do it. Besides, what's a Charlotte and Cooper story without a little python in the forest right? However, if you're not into that kind of stuff don't threat! You won't be missing anything crucial. Just have a friend sum it up! Thanks again for the reviews guys! I appreciate them! Much love. Xoxo

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><p>The door's not completely shut; it's temptingly ajar. Open enough that Cooper can see her shadow on the wall, imitating her actions, tormenting him with the slow way she tugs and steps out of her dress, revealing a more sculpted silhouette; alas, closed enough, <em>damn it, <em>that he can't actually see _her_.

But it _is _open. So either Charlotte's fully expecting him to follow her in there, or…

… or she just didn't close the door.

Yeah, he's kind of pulling for the first one.

Not that he doesn't like surprising her, because he really, _really_ likes taking her by surprise. You know, being the seducer instead of the _seducee _(is that even a word, 'cause it should be). But he knows it rarely happens that way. It's an unfair battle. Charlotte's hot, and sexy as hell, and enticingly seductive without even trying. He's not sure how she does it, but he doesn't really care. As long as he's the one that get's to enjoy it, why should he?

Those 15 feet to the bathroom feel painfully long as he wanders over, and when he finally gets there he's practically throbbing. He pushes the door open with the tips of his fingers and she's standing there in her matching frilly bra and panties (plum colored? maroon? … some shade of purple) leaning over the sink, removing her earrings. The room is already starting to get steamy from the running water, and he has to admit that watching her this way, like a horny peeking Tom (he's been called worse), with her oblivious to his stare, is such a turn on right now that he's willing to scratch the "practically" from his previous thought. He's _definitely _throbbing.

She's reaching behind her, unhooking her bra when she spots him in the mirror and abruptly turns to face him. Now the cups are just barely there, still covering up the parts Coop's really aching to see… really aching to get his hands on. Her eyes are fixed on his until she catches a glimpse of that impressive tent he's pitchin', the one that seems to be growin' right in front of her.

She's looking exceptionally smug when she notes, "Looks like someone," she tilts her head, gestures to the area below his waist, "is happy to see me."

So much for being the seducer…

If he had any idea of playing it cool, it went flying out the window with the sight of Charlotte's fingers toying with the strap hanging provocatively off her shoulder, her lower lip hidden behind her teeth.

Cooper rushes toward her, his hands landing on her hips, his mouth vigorously capturing her tongue, and lifting her up so she's sitting on the ledge of the sink. Her arms instinctively wrap around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he's pokin' at her, remindin' her that somethin' needs attendin' to.

One hand slips between them, moving over his bulge, massaging it through his pants, and he thinks she has to be as good with her hands as is he is with his tongue.

His hips are reflexively thrusting into her touch, and he shifts his focus to her neck, sucking and nipping and she willingly brushes her hair aside to give him more access. His other hand is rubbing her chest, underneath the hanging material, and he decides that there's no point in having it in the way. He tears it from her body, tosses it aside, and his hands go straight back to work.

He's desperately into this. Heatedly, fervently into this, when Charlotte leans back, stopping all movement down below much to Cooper's dissatisfaction, and reminds him that the water's runnin' for a reason. She smirks when his lips pucker into an exaggerated pout and she grabs _him_ again saying that they could be risqué and do the dirty in the shower— kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

And that pout is long gone.

They strip out of the remainder of their clothes— it doesn't take long considering Charlotte only had one thing left on and Cooper is hornier than fuck— and they're back to being pressed up against each other, now skin-to-skin and God, does it feel good. He gropes her ass, pulls her up in one swift motion so that she's in his clasp, and he carries her into the stall, the cascading hot water making the whole experience that much sweeter. Their mouths stay joined, her hands in his hair, his are still behind her, grabbing, pinching, and he's getting more aggressive— they both feel it.

Her feet hit the floor and he's immediately pushing into her kisses. Her hair's wet, the strands fused to her neck, and as Cooper goes to brush them away, his palms go astray and caress her chest; rubbing, squeezing, never wanting to let go. But then they move to her shoulders, he presses his weight into her and in a split-second she's pinned to the wall.

Cooper's loving this, he's hungry for it— hungry for her. Her hot, slick skin is just begging to be fondled and he imagines that this is what his heaven would be like— just a naked him, and a naked, wet Charlotte. He's pushing into her again, his grip on her biceps, his weight overbearing her and suddenly he feels her grow tense. She's not moving, her breathing's heavy and normally he would count that as a triumph… But, something doesn't feel right.

He hurriedly lets go, backs up a few inches to find her eyes clenched shut, her arms frozen, stuck to the wall.

After a few long seconds, her lids flutter open and she's looking at him dejectedly.

_Damn it_. Now, he could kill himself.

She finally asks, "Why'd you stop?"

"You okay?"

She doesn't say anything at first, just pants, then clears her throat and confirms, "Fine. _Until _now. Get back over here."

He hesitates for a moment, but does as he's told, and he steps in closer, grabs her arms— this time delicately— and swings them around him. His head ducks so that his lips are grazing her cleavage and he starts to cover her in light kisses. She's arching her back, pressing his head against her, trying to roughen up his suckling. She slithers one hand back between them, stroking him, tugging playfully at the head, just the way he likes it. And he's groaning, he's grunting, he's filching her suggestion… slipping one hand down, down, down, skimming her naval, cupping her mound, kneading it, and she's biting her lip, grinding against him.

But… that ravenous desire, that wild ruggedness, that devilish glint in his eyes… all that's gone; and Charlotte knows it. She's cursing herself for scaring him off, for allowing her body to react the way it did when she knows it's just him. She knows it's just Cooper.

And then she feels his fingers enter her and she gasps, forces her attention back to how unbelievably good this feels; her body intuitively rides him harder and she jerks him faster— her hand skillfully twisting and pulling in chorus. He's moaning, nodding his head eagerly, and he ups the pace of his own efforts, pushing farther into her, making sure to brush teasingly against her clit with each penetration. Her nipples are sensitive, and hard, and beckoning his tongue to come and greet them— and it does. He licks and sucks and nips each one and she's trembling, she's close. Hell, so is he. She slows her tugging and with one hand on his ass, starts to guide him closer, her way of saying that it's time for the real deal. But he stops her and whispers against her lips, "I'm too close."

"Well be 'too close' _in _me." She whispers back, kissing him deeply, guiding him towards her once again.

His body still doesn't move and instead he increases the speed of his fingers, coiling them inside her, adding more friction, giving her clit more contact, and he knows she wont be able to hold back much longer. Her head falls against the wall, her jaw drops, and he puts his mouth back on hers, their tongues tangling, eyes closed, and she's uses her own hand to tend to her breasts. He opens his eyes to watch her yanking at one of her peaks, tweaking it, skimming her nails over it and Jesus that's… that's one hell of a show.

He's using all of his willpower to keep from coming.

He wants her to come first.

He's sucking on her collar bone, savoring her taste, breathing to her how close she is, how wet she is, how hot she is, and grinning at the way she's wailing in response. He changes the angle of his hand ever so slightly, nibbles her ear, whispers for her to "get ready " and she spreads her legs all while reveling in the way his thumb is stroking her lip.

And then he goes at her with gusto and it's only about three seconds before she's a goner. She's sighing his name, her hand pumping him faster, her tongue licking her lips, and her thighs are locked around his arm— keeping him inside her.

And now he cant hold back either. He spills onto her hand, her leg, and he's holding his eyes open so that he can watch her face— watch the way her eyes roll back, the way she rests her tongue at the corner of her mouth, the droplets of water drizzling down her flushed skin. He's relishing in the pleasure that's still flowing through him. Her fingers are still toying at his tip, circling the oversensitive head, stretching out the orgasm as much as she can.

He's trying to do the same for her. His fingers are still swirling inside her— as much as they can anyway, since he's pretty much trapped between her binding thighs. But it's so erotic watching her hump his hand, feeling her contract around him once again, hearing her breathing get heavy, knowing that he's barely doing anything anymore, but she's already back on the edge.

Yeah, he knows just how to wrap this up.

He kisses her again, and God, she's tugging at his lip. He _loves_ when she tugs at his lip.

_Concentrate! _he reminds himself. And he stops all movement, inching his arm away, triggering a whine from her, and then trails his tongue down, down, down (does he really have to clarify where?) and licks her once. Her hips buck toward him and he opts to be a tad mean. Be a bit of a jerk.

He grabs her thighs, spreads them, and blows on her— his breath icy compared to the hot water and the steam— and she quivers, her groans echoing throughout the room. He blows again, this time lighter, longer, tickling her and her hips are rocking, pleading for more. He engulfs her in his mouth, not sucking, not licking, just letting the heat from his exhales warm her back up before pulling back once more and puffing out another gust of cold air, this time aiming solely at her swollen clit and she's shaking beneath his fingers, hissing his name, her juices glistening, enticing him.

So he gives in, tongue-fucks her in the way only he knows how, and she comes again— letting the whole apartment complex know it with her glorified sighs and her fist pounding against the wall. He keeps it up as long as she'll let him— until she fists his hair and pulls upward, bringing him back to a standing position.

They're both kissing and panting and finally she says he better leave so that she'll actually _wash _while they still have some hot water left _. _He chuckles, steals one last kiss and says he's he'll go fix up a bite for them to eat because 'that didn't quite fill him up.'

_Yeah, sometimes his little jokes are just plain lousy._ But, they still make her laugh.

After another thirty seconds of her catching her breath, Charlotte lathers up her hair, and thinks about this round of screwin'… or more like this round of fondlin'.

He didn't come in her, he didn't even enter her— and it's not like that's a first for them. There's been plenty of times where they got too involved with their mouths and their hands to get to home plate.

It's still unfreakinbelivably amazin'.

After all, it's Cooper.

It's Cooper's hands.

And good lord, it's Cooper's tongue.

But she cant help but think that this time was different. There was an issue here; the problem being the way she tensed up before — the way she froze and had a momentary, involuntary freak-out.

It didn't mean anything. It's just he hasn't really been that rough with her, lost all self-restraint like that, since before the rape. Her body just had a mind of it's own. It didn't last long, but she's sure it was long enough for Coop to feel guilty.

_And he shouldn't!_

_Not one bit._

She's been wantin' them to get back to this point. They've had sex and they've been dirty and they've had their fun… but they haven't gotten back to their old ways just yet.

They haven't gotten back to their escapades with toys and costumes and role playin' and she's missed that. She doesn't give a damn what the DA has to say about that lifestyle, she's all for it! And heck, it was practically Coop's religion.

_They met and bonded over bondage for God's sake!_ (okay, she has to chuckle at that little play on words). And though their relationship has grown since then– it's way more than just sex now— it's still a part of them. And she wants it back.

She doesn't want him to be scared to touch her a certain way, to have to refrain from doing the naughty, debauched things he yearns to do to her.

She doesn't want him to keep from being his neurotically perverted-self— the neurotic, perv she fell in love with.

And she definitely doesn't want to lose-it every time that part of him resurfaces.

So she rinses her hair, washes up, and guesses that it's time for them to untable that conversation from this morning. Time to finish what they started. Not that she wants to kill the mood. But when she really thinks about it, the fact that Cooper let that side of him emerge is actually progress.

And she's _not _gonna let them take two steps back after just taking that crucial step forward.


	15. Chapter 15

Charlotte appears from the bathroom clad in nothing but a towel. It's one that Cooper bought a while back. Her endearing idiot must have gotten it from the kid section, and he forever defends that it's the 'perfect size for her.' Yeah, maybe when she was ten. She usually just uses it for her hair, but to mock him with his senselessness, and maybe to be a bit of a tease, she's using it as a wrap— a wrap that can barely be considered a wrap.

_Hmm, maybe he's not such an idiot._

She was expecting to hear the clanging of pans in the kitchen— he said he was going to feed her— and the mere mention of food made her very much aware of just how hungry she is.

But the place is quiet. Definitely too quiet for something to be cooking. Definitely, unquestionably too quiet for Cooper to be cooking. He's kind of a klutz, and though the finished product is rather appetizing, the preparation is a noisy one. On mornings they don't have to work, he insists on making pancakes or eggs or one thing or another— he wants to make sure she eats something— and there's typically an accident or two where an egg rolls onto the floor, or a bowl of batter is knocked over, and then he curses under his breath (or so he thinks it's under his breath, Charlotte can more often than not hear him from the other room). It's cute actually. And it's cute when he gets right back into the groove of it, whistling some little tune, forgetting all previous frustration, shouting something childish and charming like how she better be ready to have a different kind of orgasm— a _foodgasm_— because that's how good this is gonna be.

Anyway, back to her point. It's too quiet.

She wanders into the kitchen, spots a notepad on their counter, and scribbled on the top sheet is:

**_THERE'S NO FOOD!_**

**_Ran out for Chinese. _**

**_Meet you in bed. - C_**

_No food? What is this man talking about? No food… _

She opens the fridge and makes a mental note of things they need from the store. It's barer than she thought. There's a carton of milk (which may or may not be good), a couple of slices of bread, three eggs, some cheese, beer, orange juice, condiments…

_Note to self: We're out of everything. _

Guess he wasn't kiddin'. Since when did their food supply start lookin' like they were med students all over again? All they need is ten cases of Top Ramen and they'd be all set. 'Course, being doctors, they know all about the ridiculous amount of sodium in those things. Not the healthiest thing in the world. Cheapest. Pretty tasty, sure. Not the healthiest.

And Chinese food isn't all that healthy either, but God does it sound delicious right now. She'll take it.

She reads the note one more time and chuckles to herself. He doodled a little happy face by the word "bed." She can imagine the grin on his face when he jotted that down… and now she cant stop grinning. She loves him so much. It's unreal.

She heads back to the bedroom, throws on one of Cooper's shirts, brushes her hair, throws it up in a quick pony and then moseys her way back to the bedroom to sprawl out on the bed. Her stomach is talking, but her eyes are talking too, and they are telling her that she's in desperate need of sleep. She's had a couple of restless nights, and she hates to fight the feeling of drowsiness because it's a feeling that doesn't come to her as often as she'd like.

So she shuts her eyes. Just for a minute.

Or two.

Or twenty.

And it's the sound of a telephone ring that stirs her awake.

One eye peeks open, then the other, and she glances at the clock on the nightstand as she lazily rolls out of bed. It dawns on her, as she picks up the receiver, that the place is still quiet; Cooper still isn't home.

"Hello?" Her voice is low, sluggish, full of sleep.

"Charlotte, it's me." Sounds like Cooper. But what's with all the background noise?

"Coop?" She pulls the phone away and looks at the called ID.

"Wha— why are you callin' from the hospital?"

"What's wrong with your voice? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just dozed off. Why are you callin' from the hospital? Is everything alright with Pete?" She checks her cell. No missed calls.

"Pete's fine. It's me actually. I was— and don't worry, I'm okay— but uh, I was in a little fender bender."

"What?" That was definitely enough to wake her up. "Cooper what happened? Are you—"

"Calm down, I'm fine. I wish I could say the same for my car ... and my phone…"

"But you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Charlotte. My leg's a little banged up, and I'm bummed. But…"

She lets herself breathe again. These bad-news-bearing wake-up calls better not become a routine for them.

"… My car. My poor car."

_He would focus on that._

"I'm just grateful it wasn't your neck.""I loved that car."

"And I love your neck."

"Okay, okay you've made your point. It could've been worse."

"Yeah, a lot worse. So what exactly happened?"

"Just come over here please."

"Okay. I've got to change, but I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'm in the ER. Take your time! Trust me, I'm not going anywhere."

"Funny."

"And drive safely. _Please_. We're down to one car now, and I love you, but I really don't want you as a roommate in here."

"I will." She pauses, "So, you're really okay, because I don't need anymore surprises…"

"I promise I'm fine. But, I'll feel better when you get here."

He hears her breathe into the phone and then sound more composed, more reassured when she says, "Okay. I love you. Be there soon."

"Love you too."

_Jesus, when it rains it pours. _

* * *

><p>Charlotte shows up at the hospital about a half an hour later and the first person she see's is Violet, two coffees in hand.<p>

"Can't get enough of this place huh?"

"Seems that way. Where is he?"

"This is for you," she hands Charlotte one of the steaming cups, "thought you could use it."

"You thought right. Thanks."

"They took Cooper to get an X-Ray. His foot's probably broken."

"But he's okay otherwise?"

"Oh yeah. He's Cooper. Crying about his V8 more than anything."

She scoffs at that. "Yeah, got that on the phone. That man, I swear. Here he had me worried sick and he carried on about his damn car. We can replace a car."

They're walking and sipping, walking and sipping and not talking, and Violet thinks now is as good as time as any to say what needs to be said.

"So while we're waiting, I just wanted to apologize if I upset you… about suggesting Marcia's support group… getting involved—"

"You didn't upset me. I overreacted." Charlotte chirps in. "Cooper told me somethin' I didn't want to hear and I… overreacted. No hard feelings."

Violet can't help herself…

"What is it that you didn't want to hear?"

"I said no hard feelings. And I mean that. But I'm really not in the mood to be shrinked right now. I just want to make sure Cooper's alright."

"I'm not shrinking you. I'm asking you. As a friend."

Charlotte's staring at her coffee, staying completely silent, and Violet isn't sure if she should keep talking, or count her losses and call it a day. But then Charlotte clears her throat, and Violet thinks that conversation isn't dead after all.

"I just thought I was passed this. Passed all the nightmares. Passed all the fleeting thoughts. That's all supposed to be behind me. I mean, it's been a while— it's not like it just happened yesterday. I was doing fine. I was handling it. Things were back to normal. And then… I don't know…"

"Then things stopped being so normal and easy to handle."

"Right."

"Some things you can't just block out, Charlotte. You were raped, and I don't care if it happened last week, last year, or ten years ago. It stays with you. It changes you. And you need help coping with that change. Everyone does. I did."

They're different people— her and Violet. Charlotte knows that, and she's inclined to bring that to Violet's attention. She deals with things differently than Violet. She doesn't like to discuss all her feelings. Therapy (and she's done her fair share of therapy) is not her niche, it's not something she feels all that comfortable doing. Does no one remember that she did go to therapy after the rape— couples therapy, something she never thought she would do, and grief counseling, which was disastrous to say the least. She went. She gave it a chance. And yet, psychobabble is still being shoved down her throat!

However, couples therapy wasn't a complete bust. It helped her get on board with taking the next step, getting married. And it was nice to get some of her sentiments off her chest. Not so nice to hear about Cooper and Amelia, but it's not like she hasn't made mistakes in this relationship.

_Exhibit A— Archer. No need to go on… _

But she doesn't want to ramble on out loud as much as she is in her head, so all she says is, "I'll think about it."

And Violet will happily accept that answer. She doesn't want to press her luck. But maybe just to enhance the luck a bit, she'll throw in a, "You're a strong, brave woman, Charlotte. Everyone can see that. And talking to other people, venting, saying what needs to be said… that doesn't change that. In fact, I find it to be courageous. Telling your story, confronting your problems, facing them instead of hiding from them. It's courageous."

"And awful." Adds Charlotte, who is officially tired of walking in circles and stops to lean against the wall. "Having to focus on _him_; on that night; on those details I've spent so much time trying to forget. It's awful."

"I believe it was you," Violet reminds, now standing next to her, duplicating her stance, "who once advised me, that it's the awful things that need to be said."

Charlotte looks at her then, a small smirk fighting it's way through her otherwise emotionless demeanor, and gives her a conceding nod. "Such wise advice."

"I thought so."

Smiles are exchanged, and the sound that Charlotte's been waiting for finally echoes its way down the hall.

"Charlotte!"

It's Cooper.

He's on a hospital bed, being pushed by a couple of nurses, and he's smiling. He's smiling at her like he's been waiting to see her face for hours and she's beyond relieved to see him in one piece. He has a small bandage on his forehead, his left foot is in a cast, but he looks good. They wheel him off to the side by a curtain, Charlotte close behind, and the bed is barely locked before Charlotte is on his right, her body reaching over the side rail to kiss him. His hand is behind her head, pulling her in closer.

"That's just what I needed," he remarks, flashing a goofy grin that just makes her melt.

Her thumb skims the blood-stained bandage and she concernedly asks, "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Not much. They gave me a little something when I got here."

"So what happened?"

"Some guy just slammed on his breaks out of no where. He said he saw something, but I'm pretty sure he was a little buzzed. The cops cuffed him, so I guess they agreed. Anyway, I hit him, the person behind me hit me. My foot got the impact."

She presses her lips together, her free hand rubbing his leg, her eyes staring at his cast and he squeezes her forearm and appends, "And your chow mein and sesame chicken went flying."

_This man…_

"Yeah, and I'm still hungry."

That gets a laugh out of him.

"I knew you sounded worried over the phone. I just thought it was about me, not your dinner."

"Yeah Cooper. My sole concern was my food and your sole concern was your precious car. I guess we're even."

Now he's pouting again. _Such a baby._

"I loved that car."

"Don't start. We'll get you a new car. A better one. V8 engine, turbo charge, heated leather seats, the whole nine yards."

And now he's smiling again. _Typical Cooper._

"A woman after my own heart."

"I know how to make my man feel better," she answers, arching her brow, looking all smug and cute and Cooper replies with, "I felt better as soon as I saw you."

_How does he always manage to come up with these perfect lines? _

And then they're kissing again. She whispers how worried she was, how glad she is that he's okay. He's whispering that he loves her and that he'd also like JBL speakers in his new car.

And before she can help it, she pulls back, her face suddenly serious, and says, "So I was thinking, maybe it would help if I tried out that support group you and Violet looked into. You both seem to think that it would do me good, and I can't exactly say I disagree. I figure, I'll give it a shot and if it's not a good fit for me, then no harm no foul, right?"

He's looking thrilled. Nerve-rackingly thrilled. So Charlotte interjects before he gets any more excited, "I'll try it, Cooper. A few times. If I don't like it, I don't have to go back. No pressure, no questions asked. Can we agree on that?"

"Of course. Whatever you want. I'm just glad you're going."

"I owe it to myself to give it a try… owe it to us."

Cooper wants to pull her into him again, he's feeling sentimental. But they're interrupted by Violet and a doctor holding crutches and discharge papers, which he'll admit, is a welcomed interruption. He wants to get out of here.

And after listening to his discharge instructions, signing a few papers, getting a signed prescription (which lead to a few nervous glances in Charlotte's direction) and saying goodbye to Violet, Charlotte was wheeling him out.

"So, can we stop off for Chinese? I'm still craving it."

"Fine. We'll pick up dinner, then to bed with you. You heard Dr. Neagu, you need to keep this leg elevated."

"You, food, bed rest. I'm good with that."

"Good."

"I also think Dr. Neagu recommended nudity— on your end."

He can't see her, but he knows she's back there rolling her eyes.

And he's right.

"Oh really? I must have missed that part. But as a doctor and sexologist, I do approve of that remedy."

"And as a horn-dog and husband, I thank you."

"And as a wife, I'm happy to do it."

And she really is. A night in the bedroom, naked, with sesame chicken, her head in his lap, being lulled by Cooper yearningly reading off new features from one of his many car-catalogs… well, that sounds like a remedy fit for two.


	16. Chapter 16

Emasculating.

He's well aware that that's one of Cooper's words. He's only heard him say it, _oh, I don't know_, maybe a thousand times during one of his many fights with Charlotte.

And to be honest, he never understood it.

What Charlotte did to earn that 'emasculating' title was, in his opinion, actually very generous. She was helping Cooper out— buying his way into the practice, fronting the money when he wasn't able to.

Cooper should have been grateful.

This is life, and life happens. We're all human, mistakes are expected to be made and help is inevitably needed.

It's unavoidable.

The mature thing to do— the _grown-up _thing to do— is to get over yourself and accept help when it's being offered.

If Cooper felt that accepting the help (the help that he obviously needed, mind you) was emasculating… well, then that was his childish problem.

But now, that childish problem is hitting close to home for Pete.

Because here's his wife sitting next to him, reassuringly nodding her head, sympathetically patting his arm, smiling wide, being all sorts of sickening, going on about how easy of a transition this will be for him; how anger and frustration and depression are all common emotions to have in his current state; that she will be there 24/7 to bathe him, to help him to the bathroom, to take care of him in any way he needs her to…

And how is he feeling?

Emasculated.

And a bit nauseous to tell you the truth.

But the emasculating… the emasculating is the one persistent, overpowering thought drowning out all of the gracious emotions he knows he really should be feeling.

After all, considering that at the moment just pulling himself up into a sitting position is a task for two, he supposes that her desire to help is a good thing. He _should _be grateful.

_Should _being the key word.

Instead, he's feeling the urge to knock that phony, full-of-pity, smile right off her face. Not literally of course. He'd never in a million years violently lay a hand on a woman. But, he is refraining from shouting a few choice words.

You can guess which ones…

But, no.

He's sitting up in his hospital bed, smiling, nodding, being perfectly polite and appreciative.

An _ideal _husband— an _ideal _patient.

Which is _ideal _because Violet is drifting further and further into full-blown shrink mode with each passing second.

So Pete's relieved when Amelia unintentionally decides to save the day by peeking her head in the room.

"Good, you're still alive!"

And man, he has never been happier to see that boisterous, self-confident girl in his life.

"According to the monitors, yes I am."

Then comes another voice. "And _according_ to my eyes, you look great."

It's Addison, and now they're both standing in the doorway, all smiles— rather cheesy smiles at that, like maybe they rehearsed their phony eagerness on the ride over— and Pete's beginning to wonder just how much longer he's going to be receiving this special treatment.

But all he says, with a slight chuckle and a smile, is, "I appreciate the enthusiasm."

And now he's wondering how long he's going to have to dole out these fake grins.

"But I bet you'll appreciate these more!" Amelia quickly quips, holding up some very appetizing looking blueberry muffins. And she must see the appreciation in the eyes because now she's tauntingly wiggling her eyebrows and orbiting her hand around the canister, mimicking what can best be described as a _Price Is Right _model.

"That's a safe bet."

And it really is because St. Ambrose may be an excellent hospital, but it _is _still a hospital…

With hospital food.

And his diet has mostly consisted of jello.

"Don't worry," Amelia continues, "they should be good. They're store bought."

"_Bakery _bought!" Addison cuts in. "They're from Zen Bakery on Pico. Little place. But so good. And they're bran muffins so there's more fiber, less sugar… better for you."

"Well, they look delicious."

"I would have baked some myself, but we were out of eggs and flour and pretty much every other ingredient." Addison defends while pulling up a chair.

"Yeah. She ran out of eggs and flour and pretty much every other ingredient after she screwed up three batches of what were supposed to be blueberry muffins."

"Amelia!"

"What? So you can't bake. Big deal. You save babies. That's a whole lot more impressive than being able to crack an egg without dropping shells into the batter."

"I picked them out! That… that wasn't the problem—"

"If you can't crack an egg that's kind of a problem." Pete smirks. And now he's smiling. And that smile grows even wider when he realizes he's not forcing it. This is. A legitimate. Smile.

And it feels good.

"Hey! I never baked or cooked or did any of that. We had hired help for those sorts of things. And now I'm a doctor. Take-out is our best friend."

"For good reason," Amelia murmurs, eyes to the floor, and the room is full of snickers.

"Just say 'thank you' for the delicious muffins!"

"Thank you for the delicious muffins, Addison."

"You're welcome. Change of subject… Poor Cooper huh?"

"Yeah." Violet agrees. "But, he's okay."

"Could have been worse," Pete adds, "I think I may actually feel worse for Charlotte. As if she didn't have enough on her plate," he remembers how troubled she was the other day when she spoke with him. "Now she has Cooper to take care of."

"Charlotte loves Cooper," Violet reminds, and great, she's using her shrink voice. "It's not Cooper's fault that this happened, and Charlotte is just relieved that he's okay. I'm sure she has no problem taking care of him."

Wow. Is she really going to make this about them?

Pete feels her hand squeeze around his, and yeah, what was he thinking? This is Violet we're talking about. Of course she's going to make this about them.

"Charlotte's not heartless. Of course she'll help Cooper. He's injured. I was never doubting her willingness to help. I'm just having some compassion for the other person in the situation— taking her feelings into consideration. She's had a rough year, two demanding jobs, and now this car accident…" and he decides to throw in, "though I'm sure she won't treat him like a child. He's not incapable of doing anything by himself."

She's looking at him now with studious eyes and he's really hoping that something he said will stick. She deciphers and analyzes statements for a living, and it's not like he was speaking in code.

But if she has a remark, he wont get to hear it, not now anyway, because Addison and Amelia are definitely feeling the tension and he knows this isn't the time to be having this conversation.

Amelia must agree because the next thing out of her mouth is, "I suggest a subject change. Addie is clearly uncomfortable and I've had just about enough of all this Charlotte talk."

Violet's gaze immediately switches from Pete to Amelia.

New topic.

New patient.

"Charlotte talk? Are you upset with Charlotte?"

"That's not exactly a subject change…"

"I'm sorry. It's just I couldn't help but notice your change of tone when you mentioned her name… did you two have a falling out?"

Now it was Addison's turn to interject.

"Pete! Try a muffin. They might even still be warm."

Glances are exchanged, Pete pops off the lid, and Amelia decides to escape to the bathroom, but not before snootily remarking, "You know, this was a lot funner when you were breaking out in song."

She shuts the door behind her and Addison breathes out, "Sorry."

"Is she okay?"

"She's been upset lately. More prone to rudeness. Not sure why."

"My guess would be something Charlotte related," Pete kids as he bites into a muffin. "Wow. These _are _good."

"Has she mentioned a fight with Charlotte?" Violet probes.

"No. But she's been out a lot lately. We really haven't talked all that much. But… you know… she hasn't had any surgeries or any patients here the past few days, or at least she's been staying clear of the hospital. Maybe she _is _avoiding Charlotte."

Silence.

"You think?"

Now that the topic has been brought up, she would really like to figure this whole thing out. And truthfully, she's been aching to talk to someone about Amelia .

"Well, Charlotte has had her hands full. Did she really have time to tick Amelia off?" Pete questions, his voice muffled by the half-chewed muffin still ricocheting around in his mouth.

"Did you notice when all this started?" Violet asks. She's determined to connect the dots.

"No… well… a few days ago? Actually, it was about the same time as your whole ordeal." She reasons, gesturing towards Pete. " She was _not _in a good mood that night, or the next day for that matter. I didn't think much of it at the time. I mean, it was an emotional day for everyone. But, she's been moody ever since."

Silence again.

Violet's busy pondering the situation and Addison seems to be following suit.

So Pete decides to go with the obvious…

"Have you asked Charlotte?"

Addison shakes her head, "Like you said, she's had her hands full. And to be honest, I never really put two and two together."

"Where is she going?" Violet blurts. "You said Amelia was going out. Where is she going?"

"I don't know. I'm not her mother. She doesn't tell me where exactly she's going and I don't ask. For months she just lounged around the house watching movies or hung out on the beach. I'm glad she's going out, meeting people, having some fun. It's good for her." Addison pauses and suddenly she looks uneasy . "My only concern is—"

Pete coughs.

Addison stops mid-sentence, hears the door open and Amelia's voice chimes, "Did he sing while I was gone?"

She's talking to Addison, but it's Pete who answers with, "This act has officially retired."

"Aww that's a shame. But I can't say I'm really disappointed."

The room is filled with awkward laughter and Amelia feels obligated to ask a question that she already knows the answer to.

"Were you guys talking about me?"

"Of course not." Addison answers, almost too quickly.

"Okay. So what's the verdict?"

"Amelia, we weren't talking about you."

"I meant the muffins…"

"Oh..."

Now it's Pete's turn to lift the tension. "You were right. They're delicious. Want one?"

"Don't mind if I do."

But of course it couldn't end there. Violet is still bound and determined to figure this whole thing out. It's a good distraction.

"Okay Amelia, I have to ask because I— well, I think we _all _know how Charlotte can be. Did she say something to offend you… or was there maybe some sort of misunderstanding?"

"Yeah Charlotte doesn't understand me. That's the misunderstanding."

"Okay. What is it about you that she doesn't understand?"

"Jesus, Violet. Seriously? I came here to be polite and visit your husband, not to play 20 questions. Do us all a favor and quit it with the shrink talk. '_Filter,' _if you will."

"Amelia," Addison snaps, "Violet's just trying to help. You and Charlotte were, _are_, good friends."

"You know what? I don't need help, I don't need Charlotte, and I don't need this! I'm gonna get a coffee and meet you at the car. Enjoy the muffins, Pete."

Her last gesture is a half-assed wave and the slamming of the door.

"Well that was fun…"

"Pete, I am _so _sorry."

"Not your fault." And he cant keep from slipping Violet a faultfinding scowl.

And Violet catches it, he _knows _she did, but she actually decides to stay quiet.

_Too bad she couldn't have done that a few minutes ago. _

"I know, but you don't need the stress right now and I like I said, she's been lashing out like this lately and I should've—"

"Addison, you brought me the best food I've had since being admitted. I'm not stressed. I'm grateful. And Amelia is right. Her life is her business."

"Well if I knew you'd be this grateful I would have bought more."

"There's always tomorrow." Pete says with a wink.

They share a laugh, but it's only seconds before Addison's face gives away her true state of mind.

"You're worried about her." Violet says, and there's no question in her voice. It's simply an observation.

A few moments pass before Addison lifts her chin, looks Violet in the eye and replies, "It's her past that worries me. I know her history, and I just have this God-awful feeling that it's about to repeat itself and I don't know if I'm just taking it overboard or…"

"Or?"

"Or if I'm right, and now I'm just sitting back waiting for something terrible to happen."

"Addison? What do you mean by that?"

There's a vibration, and Addison looks down at the phone on her hip.

"Oh, I gotta go. Mom in labor back at the practice."

She gets up, kisses Pete on the cheek, looks to Violet and shakes her head, "Forget I said anything."

"You know I can't do that."

She leaves. There's more deafening silence. And then Violet mutters, "I know you're angry. I don't know if you're angry at me, or at life in general, maybe you don't even know what you're angry at. But, I'm not going to push. I'll sit here, keep you company, be your wife, and not push. Okay?"

He nods in return, but their eyes never meet.

They flip on the TV and start watching some sports channel. Well not exactly watching. It's more like background noise. Anything to keep from looking at each other. He decides to text Cooper to see if his bedrest is going any better.

_How's the foot?_

A minute passes…

_Still attached. How's the heart?_

_Still beating. Having fun being tied down to a bed?_

_I WISH that was the kind of fun I was having. _

_You're sick you know that?_

_Don't knock it til you try it. But today's been cool. Char and I are plopped on the couch watching the Godfather marathon. With pizza. Can't complain. How about you?_

'No fun on this end' he thinks. But he wont sink down to that level.

_Fine. Just relaxing. Watching the game. _

_Sounds good. Charlotte has to stop by the hospital tonight. She'll probably visit. _

_I have a feeling Violet will make a pit stop at your place before heading home too. _

_Spouse switching. But don't send mine home too late . I need her tonight. Your text gave me ideas..._

_Please stop right there. I'll talk to you later. _

_Haha. Later._

Pete puts his phone down and shakes his head. He can't believe it, but he's actually jealous of Cooper. He was sort of hoping he'd be miserable in bed too. But he's not. He's enjoying his wife's company.

He's happy.

And Pete knows he should be happy that he's happy.

Just like he knows that he shouldn't be this angry with Violet.

Just like he knows he shouldn't feel betrayed by her; emasculated by her.

Just like he knows that Addison and Violet are right— something's not right with Amelia.

He knows these things…

But that doesn't mean he feels any different.


	17. Chapter 17

Three quick knocks echo throughout the room and Pete opens his eyes to see Charlotte leaning against the door frame. She's smiling, arms crossed at her chest, and she raises her chin as she says, "Hey there stranger. You feelin' up for a quick visit?"

Pete returns the smile and motions her in. "Sure. Pull up a seat."

There's a chair nearby, she scoots it closer to his bedside, and while getting herself situated she catches Pete smirking in her direction.

She squints coyly and asks, "What's that look for?"

"Are you having fun playing nurse?"

"Oh lord," She laughs. "You know, I'm beginning to think the patient is more trouble than he's worth."

"I don't doubt that." And they're both chuckling.

"I swear he's worse than a pregnant woman. His broken foot has _magically_ conjured up all sorts of cravings and hormones. Yesterday it was tacos, today it was pizza with extra cheese _and _meat, and then before I left, he put on his puppy dog face and asked if on the way home I wouldn't mind stoppin' at the store and pickin' up some strawberry ice cream."

"Definitely more trouble than he's worth," he reiterates, and she nods her head in agreement.

"And _then_," she stresses,_ "_yesterday mornin', he went on about 'what if he didn't survive the accident' — what he'd want me to do, how I should break the news to his momma; that he wants to be buried, _NOT_ cremated, because the very idea of bein' burned— even though he'd be dead and stiff as a board— gives him the willies. I tried to take most of it with a grain of salt. I mean it's a broken foot for God's sake! How'd he jump from that to death? It's depressin' and I guess it's something we should probably discuss, but I didn't even want to think about it. And then yesterday, I had to go to the impound lot to sign a form…"

She stops, takes one of those deep, calming (or what's supposed to be calming anyway) somewhat shaky breaths that dramatically lifts and drops her shoulders. Her eyes are off to the side and she's focusing, trying to keep the overwhelming emotions from being too visible. But it was a failed attempt, because if for any reason you couldn't see the devastation on her face, you undeniably could hear it in her cracking voice when she utters, "I saw his car, Pete. It was…" a few tears leaked down her cheek and she swiftly wipes them away, shakes her head and concludes, "well, let's just say it's a miracle that it's just his foot that's broken and not his neck."

"That bad?"

"Barely recognized it."

She pauses again, this time to compose herself, and she has to chuckle at her own expense, "Sorry. Comin' here and showerin' you in tears was not my intention."

"No, don't worry about it. It's understandable."

"Yeah, I guess you of all people would understand. Considerin' all that's happened in your life the past week or so… and with what happened to Violet a few years ago… you know what I'm talkin' about. It's like a wake-up call."

"You can say that again." And she's absolutely right. This experience has been nothing less than a wake-up call. But something's telling him that the wake-up call he's experiencing is a bit different than Charlotte's.

She interrupts his train of thoughts, only to further strengthen his point.

"It's funny isn't it? You go your whole life without someone. You eat without 'em, go about your day without 'em, go to bed without 'em… and then, once you meet that person, once they become a part of your life— once you share meals with them, get some silly text from them in the middle of your hard workday, feel the weight and heat of their body next to you in bed at night— it's so unbelievably hard to imagine your life without 'em. You don't know how you did it before."

They're both quiet for a few moments, minds drifting, and then Charlotte infers, "I'm sure you feel the same way…"

No response.

"About Violet…" she suggests, her voice becoming less confident, though more direct.

"Right, yeah. Of course."

_That wasn't exactly convincin'…_

"Well, I've been sittin' here ramblin' on. What's runnin' through your noggin?"

"Nothing. Just been listening."

"_Right, yeah. Of course._" She mimics, matching his earlier tone, and he gives her a look. "If you don't want to talk about it then just come out and say that, I'll respect it. But don't lie to my face mister, it doesn't work with me. It's obvious you have somethin' on your mind."

"I had a major heart attack. There's plenty on my mind."

"I can only imagine. But Pete, you have to know your stats are good and everything's healin'—"

"Not that." He waves his hand nonchalantly, stopping her predictable medical speech. "That's not what I'm worried about. I sit here and watch the monitors everyday. I know my status."

"Then what is it? Somethin' I can help with?"

"It's nothing big. It's just…"

"Just?"

He stares her down for a second, debating whether he should open up this can of worms or not, and in the end he's not sure if it's the way she's looking at him, with no judgment, or maybe just because it's Charlotte and he knows she won't go all psychoanalytical on him.

"It's Violet."

"Oh."

"We don't have to talk about it. I know it's not what you came here for."

"I _came _here to support a friend— to keep 'im company. If that means listenin' to a little spouse-complainin' then so be it. Lord knows you've heard your share."

"But my rant isn't about something as simple as cravings."

"Do I have to remind you about the shower of tears?" She counters with an arched brow, and he lets out a soft laugh.

All she says is, "Go on."

She leans back in her chair, indicating that she's ready for him to spill his guts. There's a sigh from him, his hand plops down to his lap, and he starts with, "I don't consider myself a bad guy. I have my faults like anyone else, but overall… overall I'm not a bad guy."

"'Course you're not."

"But I don't think I'm cut out to be a husband. You'd think I would have learned that after my first marriage. I had doubts, when Violet and I decided to tie the knot— I had doubts. I didn't want my relationship with Violet to be a repeat of what happened between Anna and I. I guess I just thought it'd be different this time around. We have Lucas and we knew each other well, and we loved each other. After everything that happened to Violet and the aftermath of it, we still went back to each other. That was proof enough for me. Proof we could… I don't know… make this last. Stupid. To assume something like that. It's… it's stupid."

"Not stupid, it's normal. Who walks down an aisle thinkin' their relationship has an expiration date? It's normal to think that this is _it_, that they're the _one. _Why else would you even consider marriage? You think I married my first husband figurin' that six months later I'd walk in on him under another woman? 'Course not. Actually, when I was standin' at that alter, I would have bet my entire bank account that we'd be the next Johnny and June. Didn't work out that way. Life often does that to you. So your marriage to Anna had a rocky endin'. Mine ended up with me back in my rightful position, on top of Billy, poundin' him… not in the good way. Well, maybe I enjoyed it a little." She slips him a little smirk and he can't help but chuckle. "Either way, how your past relationship turned out shouldn't affect your current one."

"Sometimes your past comes back to haunt you."

"Yeah, sometimes it does. Maybe for a good reason? It's sayin' it's time for you to face somethin' or come to terms with somethin' or… sometimes it's just to be a pain in the ass."

"I think it's the third one."

"Another lovely curveball life likes to throw. So your past… what's comin' back to haunt you?"

"Just, feelings. Feeling I had right before Anna died. Resentment. Hatred. Lately everything Violet does just irks the hell out of me."

"Maybe it's just this whole near-death experience thing. It's got you all rattled."

"It _is _this whole near death experience thing. It's put things in perspective for me. Violet left, Charlotte. She left. I asked her to stay and she walked out the door. She left for New York when I needed her. When her _son _needed her. She's so damn selfish. The other day when you stopped by and we talked, I told you not to be like her. Not just to be there when _you _feel like it. Not to analyze Cooper without expecting to be analyzed back. And that made me think, why would I want to be with someone like that? Why would I want to put up with someone who doesn't understand the importance of being there when your partner needs you to be… to sacrifice your needs for theirs… to treat them the way you'd want to be treated? I was there when she wasn't. I picked up the slack when she had to go regain her sanity after she was attacked. I was the responsible, constant parent for _our _son. When she ran away from the alter, I went after her. When she looked up my brother without my permission, I forgave her. When she wanted her book published and everyone was upset with her, I stood by her. When this whole medical board mess happened and her license was revoked, I was there fighting for her. Then, when things got tough for me… when I needed her… she fled. Where's the fairness in that? And then I have a heart attack and she wasn't home and granted, I know no one saw this coming. But she would have been there and I would have gotten here faster, and Lucas wouldn't have had to have seen as much as he did. If she just stayed like I asked her to… she should have been there."

This didn't take much figuring out. Even for Charlotte. Pete felt abandoned, betrayed by his wife. Sure she didn't cheat on him or take off in the middle of the night or anything like that. But she did leave. The trust factor is gone. And Charlotte has the urge to tell him that trust can be regained. Her and Cooper have had their share of trust issues, that's for damn sure. But she trusts Cooper. For the most part. (She's trying to forger the whole Marcia incident ever happened.) Pointing out their relatively strong relationship, however, felt kind of cruel. So she tried another approach.

"She came home. Yes she left, but she changed her mind and came home. She always comes home. That's somethin'."

"All that says is that she comes home when she wants to. I don't want to know that she'll eventually come back. I want to know she'll always be there. That's not asking for much."

"Pete, only you know what you want to do. Whether that means tryin' to fix the problem or if it means walkin' away— you do what you have to do and no one has the right to judge you for it. Just don't jump the gun. Don't let your anger fog up the big picture. Don't forget all the reasons you love Violet; make sure you're not mistakenly outweighing her good qualities with the bad. You wouldn't want to make a drastic decision and regret it later."

"It might be too late for that.'

Charlotte just nods, skews her lips to the side, and looks down. She can't blame him. Like she said, no one has the right to judge. But she's thinking about when Cooper and her broke up, over something so childish and petty. All the time that was wasted... Or maybe the time apart is what made them truly appreciate each other in the end— helped them realize how much they loved each other.

It's Pete's decision.

So she won't say anymore.

"You know Charlotte, you could have been a psychiatrist if you wanted to. You aren't half bad." Pete jokes, sensing the need for a mood boost.

"Please…"

"No, really. I never would have thought that one day I'd be having such a personal conversation with Charlotte King."

"That makes two of us. Another one of life's curveballs. But I can promise you one thing: you won't be seein' me changin' professions anytime soon."

"That's okay. I think we have enough shrinks in our little circle."

"I'll say."

"And to be honest, I find the tips you share from your specialty to be pretty interesting."

"Most men do."

They laugh, and now Pete's sitting there listening to her talk about a stimulating— pun intended— case-study she'd recently come-across. He has to admit, these pop-ins from Charlotte are quickly making her his favorite visitor. 

* * *

><p>Violet is sitting on Cooper's couch staring off into space. They're watching something on the 'history of whipped cream' which made him think of strawberries which made him think of strawberry ice cream which made him think of Charlotte still not being home…<p>

Which means there's still no strawberry ice cream.

And now he kind of wants to text Charlotte to pick up some whipped cream while she's at the store. If not for the ice cream…

Then maybe for some fun later…

But he's pretty sure asking her to pick up yet another food item would be pressing his luck. The strawberry ice cream request was brave enough.

Violet is being exceptionally boring tonight. She's barely said a word to him since she got there and his attempts at joking with her have been snubbed.

He glances over and she's watching the show, rather intently. It makes him wonder if she's even paying attention to anything they're saying, or if her mind is completely elsewhere.

"Violet?"

Her gaze stays on the television.

"Earth to Violet…"

"What?"

"You don't have to be here you know. Just because I'm hurt, helpless and alone doesn't mean you should feel obligated to stay."

"Cooper," she smacks his shoulder, "give me a break."

"My foot's not enough? You have to injure my arm too?"

"Remember where my husband is? Care to switch places?"

"Oh come on, that's not fair. I'm just playing around. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Violet…"

"Nothing, Cooper."

"Don't do that. Don't shut me out."

"I'm still trying to figure it out for myself."

"Well, talk out loud. It'll at least make you feel better. And it may take my mind off of food. Specifically strawberry ice cream..."

"Oooh, chocolate ice cream sounds good…"

"Bleh." He scrunches up his nose. "Forget about the ice cream. We don't have any or it'd be strawberry and I'd be eating it. What's the problem?"

She shrugs, "It's Pete. He's acting so cold with me. It's like he's mad at me for… I don't know… being there too much? It doesn't make any sense."

"He's been through a lot. Maybe he's not mad at you. Just mad that this happened."

"Maybe. But, he seemed fine with Addison and Amelia. It was only me that he kept glaring at."

"He seemed fine the other day. Did you say something or…?"

"Not that I know of. He clearly didn't want to talk about it earlier and I didn't want to push, so I just let it be. But now it's killing me. The last thing I need is to bring him home like this. It won't be good for anyone."

"So talk to him. Ask him what's wrong. It could be nothing and you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion."

"He was mad, Cooper! I'm not imagining things. He was angry and he was angry at _me_.

"Then I hate to say this, because I know it's not what you want to hear, but I think you know why he's angry. Remember what we talked about? That night at the hospital…"

"I thought that was behind us."

"He had a heart attack, Vi. Not amnesia. The fight didn't just go away."

"I know that. I was just hoping he could see, like I did, that those petty things don't matter. It was a disagreement that's all. We've _clearly _overcome far more significant obstacles than me wanting to go on a book tour."

"True. But just because you think it's 'petty' doesn't mean he does. Maybe to him, it's important. I was mad at you for leaving, so I'm sure Pete was too and Pete's kind of a grudge-holder, so..."

The conversation was put to a halt when they heard the rattling of the doorknob. Charlotte walks in, grocery bags in hand, and Cooper shouts, "Hey! You're home!"

"And I come bearing gifts." She answers, waving the grocery bags and he's not sure, but he thinks he see's a familiar can next to the ice cream container.

"Is that whipped cream?"

"Yeah, it was conveniently parked by the ice cream and I had a feelin' you'd appreciate it."

"You're amazing. I love you."

"Mmm." She smiles, leaning over and giving him a light peck. "And don't you forget it."

Her stare drifts to Violet, "Hey Violet."

"Hi Charlotte. You're home so I think I'll take off. Leave you guys to it."

"You don't have to leave on my account."

"No, no. I'm not. The nanny's been working overtime. I really should get home and relieve her."

"Alright then I'll walk you out."

Violet gives Cooper a hug and they say their goodbyes, Violet making sure to call him a spoiled brat when he rubbed his hand over his stomach, his eyes on the ice cream.

"I'll talk to you later Charlotte," Violet says as she walks out, but she stops when she see's Charlotte follow her, shutting the door behind her.

"I was gonna ask you, is there a certain person I have to call? I mean, for the group you told Coop about."

"Oh you've decided to go?"

"Yeah. Cooper and I talked about it. I figure I'd give it a shot. Can't hurt. And if it'll make him feel better then that's somethin'."

"Good. I'm happy for you. The group is great, you'll love them. Cooper actually has Marcia's number so you can just call her."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks. And thank you for keepin' him company tonight. I know he loves watchin' those cookin' shows, or whatever, with you. I draw the line there."

She laughs, "No problem. Thanks for visiting with Pete."

"Happy to do it. He's nice to talk to."

Violet waves and turns to walk away, but curiosity gets the better of her and she asks, "Charlotte. Did Pete say anything to you? About me I mean?"

She doesn't have to respond. It's obvious to her after seeing Charlotte's eyes drop down to the floor that she was definitely a topic of discussion tonight.

"He did didn't he? What did he say?"

"You need to talk to Pete. Talk to your husband."

There's a small nod of agreement from each woman and then Cooper hollers loud enough so they could hear through the closed door, "The ice cream is melting."

"God Cooper, give us a minute will ya," Charlotte yells back and Violet shakes her head and responds, "No, it's okay go. I'll talk to you later."

Charlotte watches her disappear down the hallway before heading back in. Once inside and after locking the door, she looks to Cooper, her hands on her hips, and he's smiling boyishly up at her.

"Ice cream?" she asks.

"Yes please."

She doesn't even get a bowl, just grabs two spoons from the kitchen, the carton of ice cream off the table, cuddles next to him on the couch, and watches him all too eagerly dig in.

"Oh shoot, I forgot to grab the whipped cream," she remembers.

"Don't get up, it's fine. I can think of something else we can do with it later…"

Her brow rises and she smiles, resting her head back on his shoulder. He gives her a bite off his spoon and as she lays there, so damn content, she thinks of her conversation with Pete.

And how lucky she is to be sitting next to the person she's sitting next to.

How blessed she is.

And how much she hopes, that if Pete feels anything like this when he's with Violet, that he doesn't just throw it away.


	18. Chapter 18

"You're sure you don't want me to go in with you," Cooper asks her for what must be the thousandth time. "Because I have no problem with—"

"Cooper." She asserts, and he stares down at the sunglasses in his lap, listens to her as she inhales an exaggerated breath and sighs, "I'm just as sure as I was when you asked me that thirty seconds ago. You're beginnin' to sound like a broken record."

He looks in her direction, shakes his head and can't quite hold back a chuckle. She's being serious. He knows that. But even though the things that pop out of her mouth have been known to cause problems in the past (and, sometimes now…), he must admit, it's always fascinated him how fast she's able to come up with these quick-witted ripostes.

It's hilarious.

Most of the time.

"Okay, okay. Point made."

She's still staring out the car window. In fact, she hadn't moved an inch the entire drive; and since he's parked, she hasn't so much as looked his way. They're early for her first group therapy session.  
>He knew they would be. But she was set on leaving the house and getting there on time.<p>

And on time to Charlotte means_ at least_ ten minutes early.

So now they're sitting silently in her car outside.

And he's watching her.

And she's watching a group of women walk by, almost studying them, seeing if they have a telltale sign that they're on the same emotional rollercoaster she's on— if they're part of the assemblage of crestfallen women coaxed into attending this meeting.

Cooper reaches for her hand, brings it up to his lips, kisses her right under her wedding ring and she finally turns her attention to him, slipping him a feeble smile.

They sit like that for a moment, her hand sandwiched between his grasp and his chin, her head resting against the seat, her eyes locked on his, and she finally says in a voice so pitifully low that it's almost a whisper, "I'm gonna head on in."

He suddenly feels bad, like he's guilted her into doing this or something, and he obligatorily reminds her, "You don't have to do this. If you don't want to. You don't have to. You can come to the practice with me and hang out in my office while I go over a few files. Or I can drop you off at home, or—"

"I want to," she assures, pulling her hand away from his grip and gently placing her fingers over his mouth, "I'm just a little nervous… don't ask me why," she shrugs, leans back into her seat, "but, I want to." She looks down, fiddles with her belt, "I _need _to."

Her hand is pulled back into his as he deduces, "I don't have to ask why. I get why." She tilts her head to face him and he feels conscience-stricken enough to quickly rephrase, "I mean, I can _understand _why you'd be nervous. Talking about… _it_…and everything."

A nod and a squeeze of his arm is all he gets in return before she changes the subject.

"Are you gonna be okay? Drivin' alone?"

"I'm good. Just glad it's my left foot in a cast and not my right. But now that I can drive again, we really need to look into a rental car or something. Because this whole sharing a car thing—"

"I know. We'll figure somethin' out tonight."

"Okay," he glances at the clock, leans over, kisses her once on her forehead, once on her lips, and then says, "You better go. You're gonna be right on time if you wait much longer."

She actually smiles at that, and then smacks his thigh as she murmurs, "Ass."

The car door opens and she steps out all confident and ready and he thinks to himself how amazing she is. How she can go from looking all vulnerable and uneasy to poised and composed in an instant.

"But I'm _your _ass," he shouts, and he grins as she shakes her head at him, "Call me when you're ready. Love you."

"Love you too."

The door slams, she straightens out her blouse, adjusts the strap of her bag and then can't refrain from mouthing _'ass' _one more time through the window before strutting off.

Cooper laughs, and then with his sunglasses on, his head tilted downward, he discreetly keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror. He watches Charlotte walk the short distance between where he's parked, to the double-glass doors, and then see's her stand there for a second, her fingers gripping the handle— calming her nerves he guesses— and then disappear inside.

* * *

><p>There's a little front desk off to the right when she walks in, and she can't help but notice a stack of blank nametags in the upper left hand corner. Suddenly she finds herself anxiously praying to God that she doesn't have to wear one of those things. She's not in the mood to mingle. She just wants to sit in the back, get some comforting, inspirational words drilled into her skull, and bolt.<p>

Small talk and hustle and bustle can be heard echoing throughout the hall. She peeks her head around the corner, pulls back and stands there frozen. This is becoming a bit too much for her. There are more people than she originally thought there'd be— 25, 30 maybe?— she looks back, and there are… _cliques_?

It's beginnin' to look like a high school lunch room and she's desperately fightin' the voice in her head that's tellin' her to turn around and walk out the door.

And she's _this _close to doin' just that when a small Asian woman approaches her with a big, welcoming grin and greets, "Dr. King? Dr. Charlotte King?"

"That's what my driver's license says," she answers, returning the smile and shaking the woman's awaiting hand."

"Oh! You have a sense of humor. Love it! I'm Julianne, Marcia's partner in crime," she giggles and Charlotte widens her grin, slowly nodding her head.

_Goody... _

"Marcia's not going to make it to today's session, but she told me to take extra good care of you and to make you feel right at home."

"How kind of her."

Julianne moves in closer then, her demeanor becoming quite solemn, and she assures, "Dr. King—"

"Charlotte, please."

"Okay, Charlotte, in all seriousness I know what it's like standing in your shoes. I remember when it was my first time here and I was on your end and it's a scary feeling. You don't know anyone and you're unsure of your surroundings, but give it a chance. Everyone here is great. They're all friendly and helpful and supportive and they… well, they _know,_" she pauses before finishing with,"You're very brave for walking through these doors."

Charlotte feels her shoulders drop some, and exhales, "Thank you. That means a lot."

And it really did. That's why she's here after all, for support. To not feel so alone in all of this…

"And this," Julianne mentions, reaching for a small book, "will be your journal. We all have one and write it in every day. Of course you can start with one entry a week or whatever makes you comfortable. It can be about whatever you want it to be about. It's yours. It's about you. It may not make sense to you now, but writing helps you decipher your own thoughts and emotions, and after a while you will look forward to the time of day you devote to this book. It helps take a load off. It _empowers _you. Anyway, if you have any questions, just ask!"

"Thanks, but I was never really into writin' or keepin' a diary or anything like that. It's just not how I operate."

"I understand, and no one here will ever force you to do something you're uncomfortable with doing. But I would highly recommend that you try it. Just once a week. A few times maybe. You don't have to share unless you want to and it can be five words long or five pages long— completely your call. But please try it. Like I said, you may be surprised."

_I doubt that._

"Sure. I'll give it a go."

Just like that, Julianne repaints that cheesy grin on her face and announces, "Great! Well go on in, pick a chair, any chair, and meet the girls!"

She marches off, collecting a few supplies off the desk (ditching the nametags, _thank the lord_) and Charlotte slowly turns to walk towards the group.

The room quiets down a bit as she makes her way to the circle of chairs, and she feels the gawks and vigilant eyes looking her over. It's not like they're being all that subtle.

And now her stomach is doing somersaults again.

She scoots in between two empty seats, situates herself and takes on the stares.

"Hello." She offers, her nails on her left hand digging into the thumb on her right.

_God help me…_

"You're new," a dark-haired woman two chairs down declares while extending her arm, "I'm Denise."

"Charlotte. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"First time or are you from a different session," another woman asks.

"First time."

_Never thought I'd answer a question with those two words again…_

"Ah, a first-timer. Well, welcome. I'm Jackie."

"Pleasure," she nods, still smiling, wondering how long her jaw is gonna hold out.

"The first session is always a bit nerve-wracking, but you'll get used to it."

Jackie keeps rambling and Charlotte actually appreciates the conversation. It takes away from the awkward silence.

That being said, she's not really listening to a word this woman's saying.

Instead, she's glancing around the circle, quickly realizing that like her, not everyone is in their comfort zone. She's not alone. Some have their eyes glued on the floor. Others are whispering amongst themselves, keeping away from the rest of the group. A few even have marks on their faces. Their attacks were more recent and Charlotte instantly recognizes the emptiness in their eyes, that 'lost' look.

She swallows hard.

_How can they even sit here?_

She turns her attention back to Jackie— who is now talking about her purse maybe? — when Julianne makes her way to an empty chair with a box of pens and flashcards.

"Hello ladies. So we have one or two newcomers here today and as you know Marcia won't be joining us. Anyway, I thought before we get to our journals and highlights of the week, I could explain your new little homework assignment. It might be completely corny, I don't know. But I read about it and discussed it with Marcia and she thought it'd be an interesting activity to try. Last time we met, we talked about self-growth and how to regain self-identity. Sticking with that theme, I would appreciate if everyone would take a card and pen, write one 'self-growth' goal they'd like to accomplish in one month's time, and we can support each other and help each other reach our goals. Everyone here has lost something. Whether that something is trust, or security, or sexual desire, or maybe even the overall sense of who you are… I've heard it all, I've felt it all, all of us have. Remember, this is not a place of judgment. This is a place of healing. Take the card, take a complimentary pen, write it down now, or think about it and bring the card back next time we meet."

The materials get passed around the circle and when the box gets to Charlotte, she picks up a pen and card and sticks them in the cover of her journal. She's not in the mood to think right now.

Her goal was to make it to this meeting.

So far she figures she's on the right track.

After the box made its way around, Julianne asked if anyone would like to share an entry from their journal. Much to Charlotte's surprise, a handful of women offer to start off the discussion.

A woman brings up self-defense classes, and Denise is quick to point-out that she's a recent graduate. Names of instructors are being thrown around and the group becomes loud, sharing experiences and maneuvers, when a woman on the opposite end of the circle clears her throat and raises her chin, suggesting she has something to say.

Julianne is quick to notice and shushes the group before speaking, "Mischa?"

The woman stares straight ahead, at nothing in particular, rolls her eyes and utters, "My attack wasn't random." She straightens up, looks at Denise and says, "I've heard your story, Denise," her eyes scan the group, "I've sat here time after time and listened to many of your stories. Most were either random attacks, or someone you thought you could trust— someone you knew. Denise, you were going about your day, someone pinpointed you out and…." She didn't say the rest, she didn't have to. "I was at a club, all dressed up— or more like dressed down— and I was shamelessly flirting. I was throwing myself at these guys I didn't even know, with the intention of bringing one home with me. I had done it countless times before and it was always the same thing. That night," she paused, took a breath, "that night was no different. Some nice looking man bought me a drink, used some horrible, cheesy pick-up line and asked if I wanted to 'ditch the place'… and of course I was all for it. I mean how stupid was I? Who does something like that? Who leaves with a total stranger they meet at a bar?"

_Me, _Charlotte thinks to herself. Shit, she met crazy, perverted men on the internet and brought them back to her place. She followed them to their cars. She went into dark parking lots with them.

And now she could kick herself.

"We walked to my car," Mischa continues, "I gave him directions to my place— again, fucking stupid. And then I gave him a little preview on the hood of my car… his hands were on my hips, his mouth on my neck, and everything is going according to plan when my phone rings. I get called into work. So I regretfully ask for a rain check and he ignores me. He _ignores_ me and pushes himself against me, he goes back to kissing my neck, and he's chuckling against my ear, and I… I think he's kidding! A typical man right? So there I am laughing along! Slapping his chest, scooting towards my door, opening my door, and then he's on top of me. He's tearing my dress off and holding me down and…," she falters, lowers her voice, "and you can guess the rest."

"No we can't actually," Julianne interjects, "No rape is the same. Don't generalize. Be fair to yourself. Let it out."

"The rest doesn't matter, I—"

"I know you know that's not true."

"I'm just making a point," Mischa defends. "You all weren't asking for it. And you can sit here and repeat that _it's never your fault _routine all you want, but I _was _asking for it. Literally! I was out looking for sex, and I was dressed like a whore, I was acting like a whore, and in the end, I was used like one. I _was _asking for it. I had it coming. And I accept that. And taking some self-defense class isn't going to change that. It isn't going to make me feel more empowered or more secure. I just don't really see the point."

A few of the women immediately start shaking their heads and inch closer to Mischa, trying to tell her how wrong she is. Charlotte stays planted in her seat. She's definitely not sure of this whole meeting idea.

Once again, Julianne holds her hand up to quiet the group, turns her chair to completely face Mischa, and firmly states, "I notice you keep referring to the sexual assault as '_it.' _Do you hear yourself doing that, Mischa? You don't say _rape_ when clearly that's exactly what happened. You were forced into sex. You were _raped._ You turned him down, which means you did _not _consent, which makes you a survivor of _sexual assault. _And what you were wearing that night, what your intentions were, none of that changes the fact that _you were raped_."

Mischa's bottom lip is quivering and she's shaking her head over and over and over and Charlotte can't take her eyes off of her.

"Did you fight," Julianne asks bluntly, "Did you scream? Did you hit him? Did he hit you—"

"I screamed," Mischa blurts out, "I screamed, but he covered my mouth." And now Charlotte feels sick. Literally sick. And she wants out of here. She's looking around for the nearest exit when she hears Mischa start crying.

"Mischa, what happened after he covered your mouth?"

And Charlotte can't believe this. She can't believe Julianne is pressuring her this much—drilling her like this. Can't she see this girl is distraught?

"I… I don't remember."

Denise moves closer to Mischa then and squats to her level. "We all remember, that's something we will never forget."

Charlotte spots a bathroom, and while the rest of the girls are focusing on Mischa, she makes a dash for it.

She slips in, locks the door behind her, steps up to the sink and stands there, facing herself in the mirror. Her hands are clasped together over her stomach, her eyes clenched tight, and she's trying her damnedest to calm her body down— to stop the shaking and to keep the knot in her stomach from getting any tighter.

"Are you gonna be sick?"

Charlotte spins around quickly to see a young brunette sitting on the floor, book in hand, looking up tentatively at her.

"Woah, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," the girl says, placing the book, spine up, on her lap.

Charlotte lets out a deep breath, relaxes her shoulders and exhales, "Didn't realize anyone was in here."

"That's kinda the point," the girl smirks, and then she softens her expression as she observes, "you look like you've seen a ghost. First time?"

_Is it that obvious?_

"Yeah. This just isn't my cup of tea."

"That makes two of us…." She squints, looks Charlotte up and down, and then extends, "Well, you're more than welcome to hide out in here with me… just don't invite any of the Chatty Cathys out there."

"I'm not hidin' out. I just needed a minute, that's all."

"Whatever," the girl shrugs, picking up her book again.

Charlotte lifts her brows, turns back to the sink, adjusting her purse's strap as she does so... and out falls her journal, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

The girl looks up, then down at the journal, back up at Charlotte again, this time with a grin on her face, "Luck you. You got your journal. I've yet to use mine… except maybe as a coaster," she jokes, and Charlotte smiles back.

"Yeah, I really don't get the point."

"Because there is none. What are we supposed to write about anyway? What we ate for breakfast? About the imbeciles I work with? I don't want to talk to these people, let alone write to them. Oh God," she stops herself, looks up at the ceiling, and then back to Charlotte, "you must think I'm a real bitch… and now I cussed... and maybe you're a churchgoer or something... Sorry."

"I haven't been to church in years." Charlotte quips, bending down and picking up the journal. "And no I don't think you're a bitch. Actually, I know exactly where you're comin' from. Like I told the lady out there, diary keepin' is not my thing."

"Sounds like we're two peas in a pod. What's your name?"

"Charlotte. Yours?"

"Jamie. So where you from cowgirl?"

"Ha. Alabama, but I'm no cowgirl. Not anymore anyway."

"LA does that to you. But hey, if you want, I can introduce you to a girl who thinks she's a cowgirl. Yes maam, she wears daisy dukes, major push-up bras, lots of hairspray, cowgirl boots _and _rides a mechanical bull down at the Saddle Ranch joint. She's pure country. Did I mention she's from Jersey?"

"Oh God," Charlotte chuckles and pretty soon they're both full blown laughing. "Where'd you meet that winner?"

"She would be one of the imbeciles I work with."

"You look so young. Where do you work?"

"I hear that all the time. But I'm 21. Not all that young. I work at Cora's Coffee."

"On Ocean?"

"Yeah! Have you been?"

"Yeah a few times. It's a nice place. Not too far from where I work."

"Where do you work?"

Charlotte gets more comfortable and leans against the stall closer to Jamie. "I'm a doctor. I work at a private practice on the corner of Fourth and Wilshire."

"Wow. A doctor. Impressive. I never met a doctor before. But, like I said, I'm surrounded by—"

"Imbeciles," Charlotte repeats.

"Right."

"Well trust me, not all doctors are the sharpest tools in the shed either."

"Remind me not to become a patient at your practice."

"Oh no, Seaside is great. I'm lucky. My coworkers are—"

"Not imbeciles," Jamie emphasizes, pointing her finger at Charlotte with a wink.

"For the most part… not imbeciles." Charlotte smiles.

Jamie opens her mouth, about to say something, when they hear footsteps approaching the door, and the doorknob jiggle. They stay perfectly still until they hear the steps fade away, and when they're relatively sure the coast is clear, they both let out a hushed laugh.

"Well, I don't know about you," Jamie starts, "but I could really use a cup of coffee. There's a place a few doors down. Care to join? I can show you my secret exit," she proposes cheekily.

Charlotte hesitates. She's not all that comfortable leaving, with a stranger nonetheless. Besides, she told Cooper she'd give this a try and she really hasn't given it her all.

Jamie stands up and brushes some dust off her jeans, then reasons, "Unless you want to go join the tea party out there of course. I wouldn't want to get in the way of the magical healing they've got going on."

"Why do you even come?" Charlotte questions. "I mean, if you just hang out in the bathroom, why even bother?"

She sees the way Jamie's face drops, her mouth skewing off to the side, "My boss was worried about me. He really wanted me to come, and I did. Quite a few times actually, but…," she shrugs and combs a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well why'd you end up in here?"

There's a pause.

And then Charlotte lifts her head, offers the warmest of smiles and says, "You know what? Coffee sounds great."


	19. Chapter 19

"What's your poison?"

"I can order mine."

"Are you kidding? Look at this place!"

Charlotte glances around the crowded coffee shop, which aside from being a relatively small place to begin with, looks even smaller with the unfavorable amount of people dilly-dallying about.

"It's okay. I do this for a living remember? I'll place the orders, and you can go grab us that table," Jamie prompts, pointing to an unoccupied, checkered table, barely visible in the midst of the chatty loiterers. "Who knows if it'll still be open after getting through that line."

"Non-fat, extra-hot, extra-shot, vanilla latte," Charlotte answers, indicating agreement. Jamie nods, "Got it," turns her back, and walks off.

Charlotte weaves through the cattle, claims the table with the placement of her purse, pulls up an extra chair, and sits to check her phone. The meeting should be about half way through, so she doesn't feel all that rushed to call Cooper... though a flood of guilt is convincing her otherwise. _Damn it, I should have pushed through that woman's piece. _

She's lying. At the end of the day, that is exactly what she's doing. Lying. She told Cooper she'd give this thing a go and yet here she is, sneakin' off, havin' coffee with some kid she doesn't even know, all because she was so desperate to get the hell out of there— because in that brief minute of mindless chatter in the sanctuary of a locked bathroom, she felt… _understood._

She puts down her phone and shakes her head. Cooper wanted her to sit down and talk to someone, and technically that's what she's doin'. She shouldn't have to feel guilty for this.

Jamie's back quicker than expected and sits across from Charlotte, smiles cordially (almost awkwardly) at the blond, then cocks her head to the side and asks, "taking another trip to la la land?"

"Hmm?" Charlotte returns, the corners of her lips politely curving upward

"Nothing. Just looks like you're sitting here, but _you _aren't really here."

"Oh." Her face falls, "Yeah, that's been par for the course lately."

Jamie watches as Charlotte's eyes become glued to the table, and she shakes her head, reaches for Charlotte's hand and bolsters, "Hey, don't get all down in the dumps now. Trust me, I'm not judging. I've been to la la land. It's my home-away-from-home. I'm a frequent flier."

Charlotte's eyes wander to the hand that's resting on top of hers, and Jamie quickly pulls away with a, "Sorry." But Charlotte doesn't look all that perturbed by it. She just utters, "It didn't used to be my 'home-away-from-home'."

"Probably not. But you're not yourself. I mean, you're yourself. You're just not who you were…."

"How would you know? You just met me." Charlotte challenges, her abrasive side scarcely surfacing, but this time it's Jamie that doesn't look affected.

"Just call it an intuition. I have a sixth sense you know."

"You see dead people?" Charlotte banters, her brows arched, and Jamie gets the giggles, and hell, they must be contagious because pretty soon Charlotte's chuckling right along with her.

"Well I would certainly like a dead person to tell me what's taking these baristas so long with our coffee," Jamie finally answers.

"They bring 'em out to you?"

"Not usually, but my friend Tim is working. I see him every week. He said he'd play waiter."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing, I haven't even paid yet. We can pay when he gets to the table. That's what I usually do."

"You work at a coffee shop and you still come here every week?"

"Yep. It tends to have a nicer atmosphere than the public bathroom," she kids and they both chuckle again.

"I still don't get why you even bother goin'."

"For your information, I don't always hide in the bathroom. Just on days I don't feel like hearing a tearjerker or dealing with Denise. And then of course my boss _has_ to drop me off and watch me walk in. He says— and this may pay into my intuition— that _I'm not myself, _that _this will do me good. _He actually cares. So, I hate to disappoint. I give him the satisfaction of dropping me off and let him feel like he's helping me in one way or another. Then I take the bus to work and stroll on in with a big fake grin plastered on my face. Whatever melts his butter."

"I get that." _I really get that._ "So you're not a fan of Denise?"

"Ugh no.' Jamie groans, her face scrunching up in a look of disgust, "she always has to bring up how strong she is. How far she's come and how much she's accomplished. It's annoying… and not to mention rude. There are other girls there who aren't at that point yet. She doesn't have to rub it in. And then she has her little fan club there idolizing her. It's disgusting."

Their conversation is interrupted by, "Your coffee is served," and Charlotte looks up to see a man in his early thirties with a coffee in each hand.

"Charlotte, meet Tim. Tim, Charlotte."

"Didn't know you had any friends, Jamie." Tim taunts, placing the drinks on the table.

"Well actually we just met," Jamie clarifies, "though I think I may already like Charlotte more than I like you."

"Oh is that so," he questions, his gaze turning to Charlotte, who in return smiles and says, "The girl's one smart cookie."

"Woah. You're definitely not a native," he notes, hearing her accent.

"You're so perceptive, Tim," Jamie mocks, and Charlotte smirks at her obviously phony look of astonishment. "She's from Alabama. A true southerner."

"Been here for quite some time though," Charlotte adds.

Tim turns on his charm, "They say there's nothing sweeter than a southern gal."

"Stop flirting. How much do we owe you," Jamie interjects.

"Nothing. It's on me."

"I insist—" Charlotte starts.

"As do I," he contends.

"Just shush and take the free coffee," Jamie urges in an exaggerated whisper.

"Fine. Thank you."

"My pleasure. Nice meeting you, Charlotte. Later, Jamie."

"Thanks for the coffee."

He turns to walk away, but then turns back and declares, "I must say, you have one _enchanting_ smile, Miss Charlotte."

"Wow, Tim. That was impressive," Jamie chirps as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at Charlotte.

"Just pointing out the obvious," he answers with a wink before marching off.

"Sorry about him. He's actually sweet, but he can be such a ham."

"That's okay. I'm married to a man of the same species."

"Oh you're married? Guess I should have gathered that considering you're wearing a ring and all. Such a gorgeous ring too," she acknowledges, now thoroughly studying the band, "or should I say, such an _enchanting_ ring."

"Yeah you can certainly say that."

"How long have you been married?"

"Not even a year."

"Newlyweds! Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"To avoid the whole 'wondering if you should ask me the same question thing,' I'll just go ahead and tell you I'm single. No beau for me."

"You're too young to be tied down to someone anyway. You have your whole life for that."

Suddenly Charlotte feels like she's overstepping. It's bizarre... feeling this comfortable with a stranger. It's definitely not a sentiment she's used to, and she finds it to be both oddly unnerving and incredibly heartening. Usually when she's sittin' opposite of a person she's just met, it's to discuss a medical condition with a patient, or to go over boring managerial work with a fellow hospital administrator— neither of which would fit the bill in this situation. Clearly.

So, she falls quiet, and now they're back to this 'hi-I-don't-really-know-you' awkward-silence sort of deal— both sipping their coffees, scoping each other out.

It's Jamie who decides to put them both out of their misery.

"Look, you don't know me and I don't know you. But I like you... so far anyway... and as Tim pointed out I don't have many friends. And I used to. I had people. I wasn't always a loser. But shit happened and now I'm pretty much alone. So, since we are both going to these stupid meetings and you don't seem like much of a social butterfly either… I would very much like for us to be… friends… or something. Maybe I'll sit through a meeting if I have someone I know, someone I trust, sitting in the chair next to me. And we certainly can't be friends with all of these awkward silences, so whenever we run out of things to say and it gets weird, I will just… I don't know… recite daily specials. I can do that. I do it daily."

"And I can suggest ways to treat erectile dysfunction," Charlotte jokes.

"That's perfect! Definitely trumps my idea. Exactly what kind of doctor are you?"

"At the practice my specialty is sexology."

"Sexology? Wow. You just became _that_ more fascinating… or, I'm sorry, _enchanting._"

"I have a feelin' that that word is gonna get very old, very fast."

"Really? I find it to be more _enchanting_ every time I use it. _Enchanting._"

"Oh lord…."

It was another twenty minutes or so of laughs and chitchat before Jamie announces that she has a bus to catch and Charlotte figures she should probably call Cooper. They wave goodbye to Tim, and head back to the familiar glass doors, hiding around the corner when they spot Julianne on her cell outside.

"Okay, you have my number," Jamie whispers, keeping a close watch on Julianne, "I'll see you at the next meeting, but text me if you feel like it."

"Textin'. God, I feel like we're in high school."

"Seriously. Swapping digits. Ditching class. Hiding from the teacher. Does this make us the bad kids?"

"It would seem that way."

They exchange a grin and then look back to see Julianne inside.

"Okay, coast is clear. Gotta go. Good luck with your husband. Hope his foot feels better. Talk to you soon."

And then she's off, making a mad dash to the bus stop.

* * *

><p>Cooper's talking on his ear piece when Charlotte opens the car door. He's talking about a rental and he holds his hand up sympathetically as she quietly situates herself in the passenger seat. He's quick to excuse himself from the call and apologizes, "Sorry, but good news. Got a car lined up. I can pick it up tomorrow morning. It's a stick-shift though. Do you know how to drive a stick?"<p>

"'Course I can drive a stick. But last time I checked you're the one who needs a rental, not me."

"I know, I was just wondering. But man… it's a sweet ride, Charlotte. We can go joy riding."

"A sweet ride?" she repeats, mocking his tone.

Now she really does feel like she's in high school. She's bein' picked up by a guy who refers to his car as a 'sweet ride.'

"Oh, be nice. You'll change your mind when you see it. You may even want to trade."

She shakes her head and he finally probes, "Well?"

"Well what?" She counters, buckling her seatbelt into place.

"Well, how was it?" he rephrases, watching her face closely, relieved to see her relaxed and in a seemingly good mood— not at all the state he was preparing himself to find her in.

"Fine," she dismisses with a shrug. "Mostly just listened to people talk."

"Did you meet anyone— hit it off with anyone?"

"As a matter of fact I did. Have a date with him this weekend actually."

He gently smacks her thigh, leans in close, and murmurs, "That's not what I meant," before engulfing her in a kiss. She snickers against his lips before giving into his kisses, her fingers combing through his hair. He pulls back a little and reveals, "But if that _is _true, I hope the poor guy doesn't plan on picking you up from your place."

"Mmm," she mutters against his lips, "that'd be a mistake huh?"

"Oh yeah." He nods, not completely breaking the kiss. "A big mistake. Because I happen to know that an extremely handsome doctor lives there, and that particular doctor has the hots for you. Bad. And he's the jealous type. He might just kick the guy's ass."

He moves to her neck, and she tilts her head to the side to give him more access, her eyes fluttering shut. And then her hand comes up between them, and she pushes him away, but her eyes never leave his as she proposes, "In that case I think I'd better pay this doctor a visit… 'cause I have this itch, and it just wont seem to go away... think he could help with that?"

And Cooper is suddenly way too excited.

"Oh he could definitely help with that."

"Well then, what are you waitin' for? Shift this baby into drive. Stat."

"Believe me, _it's_ in drive."

And on this _enchanting _car-ride home, Charlotte proved to Cooper just how well she could handle a stick.


	20. Chapter 20

Cooper is sitting in the kitchen at the practice, gnawing on an apple, smiling down at his coffee, looking quite content in his own little world, when Violet walks in.

"Hey Cooper," she mumbles, the irritation in her voice acting as a superb accompaniment to the graceless stomps of her stride.

He doesn't respond, and she looks over her shoulder to find him seemingly oblivious to her presence— he's miles away. _Lucky_.

Well, her mind is miles away too. Physically she's at the office, but mentally, she's home, worrying about her husband; her husband who wont as much as look her way, acknowledge her existence. Yep, Cooper and her may both be miles away, but she has a feeling that he's floating around cloud nine somewhere while she's wading through hell. As if to further establish that assumption, his smile widens into a grin and he starts chuckling at… well, at nothing.

"Okay Cooper… what is it?" she sighs, reaching for a bottled water from the fridge.

"Hmm," he answers, coming back to earth, "What's what?"

She takes her place next to him at the island and challenges, "Oh don't give me that. Look at you, you can't stop smiling."

He nods his head. She's right. He feels like a giddy schoolboy, and the weightless, tingly sensation of it all just makes him smile even wider.

"I didn't sleep last night."

"Oh no. I see where this is going. No offense Cooper, but with the direction my marriage is headed, no sex talk."

She pushes herself away from the counter, but Cooper grabs her arm first, "No! Violet, get back here. I didn't mean sex… though we did have sex. Awesome, mind-blowing sex… with a little role-playing—"

"Focus Cooper."

"Sorry. It was just a good night. She went to that meeting yesterday and I—"

"Wait," Violet interrupts, suddenly looking more intrigued. "She actually went? Already? That's great! How did she like it?"

Cooper lifts his mug to his lips, and before taking a sip utters, "You look surprised."

"Not surprised, per se, just wasn't fully expecting her to go. I mean, a few weeks ago she was completely against the idea."

"Well she went."

"And? What'd she say?"

"Uh…" he stalls, looking almost embarrassed, "we didn't really talk about it."

She raises her chin, arches her brows, "Now _that's _more on the lines of what I expected."

"It's not like I didn't try," he defends, "I asked. She just—"

"She just deferred you with awesome, mind-blowing sex."

"No— okay yes. But you know what? I don't care. I don't care because she was in a good mood when I picked her up, and it was a very, _very_ inappropriate ride home. Followed by the awesome, mind-blowing sex—"

"Cooper," she grunts.

His hand flies up, "I know." _No sex talk. _"So after the um… the _relations?_" he tests, wrinkling his forehead, grinning at the dirty look Violet's now giving him, "she went to take a shower and I decided to make homemade, cinnamon, Belgium waffles—"

"That reminds me, am I ever going to get my waffle iron back?"

"Seriously? You never even use it."

"Well maybe I would start using it if I had it back."

"I… can I just finish my story please?"

"Fine."

He exhales, all cheerful again, "So I was making waffles,"

"With my waffle iron..."

"And Charlotte comes over, wearing one of my shirts, and you _know _how much I love it when Charlotte wears my shirt," he pauses for a moment, envisioning her damp hair, her perfect figure in his button-up, plaid shirt, her tight, little boy-shorts, her… _okay Violet's starting to glare, _"and she sat in the kitchen, watched me cook, I put whipped cream on her nose, and we ate in bed."

Cooper sighs, he's drifting back into a daze, and Violet almost doesn't want to ask what the point of all this is.

But curiosity gets the better of her. "So… what? You were up all night feeling guilty about not returning my waffle iron or…?"

He looks over, shakes his head and playfully shoves her shoulder. "She fell asleep on my chest. And she actually slept. Peacefully. She didn't lie awake staring at the ceiling, she didn't toss and turn, she didn't get up a half-a-dozen times to check her phone or look at some file… she didn't wake up screaming. She slept. And I know she slept because I stood awake watching her. I couldn't get enough. She was making these little noises, her lips were puckered, and her nose kept doing this… this twitching thing," he looks down, idly plays with his wedding band, grins again, "and every once in a while, she'd nuzzle into me. I just —"

"_You_," Violet stresses, her face the very picture of disgust, "just need to stop. You're beginning to make me sick."

"I'm happy Vi," he says with such sincerity that she can't help but soften. "These kind of domestic nights don't happen all that often for us. We're both busy, she works late, we can't always eat together; and sleep— that's never been Char's strong suit. Especially since…," his face goes solemn for a second, but he quickly continues, "And snuggling? Sure for a while maybe, but she'd never sleep that way. That's definitely not her thing." He shrugs his shoulders, hits the button on the side of his new phone, and up pops his background, a photo of him and his wife. "I love Charlotte. She's the first woman I ever truly loved. But come on Violet, I never pictured myself with this kind of woman. She's sarcastic, very, almost disappointingly independent, not the best with talking about her feelings, and displays of affection… in public? We both know she's not huge on that either. I gave up on those things when I decided to get serious with her because I realized that I loved her anyway. I realized that I didn't need the pet names and the cuddling and the long, personal talks because she brought me so much happiness just by being her. But, she's grown so much, I can't believe it. She opens up to me more now— the past few months. She cuddles. She doesn't mind kissing in public or holding my arm when we walk— as long as we're not working— that's unprofessional," he explains. "She's still that 'tiny, blonde hurricane, Charlotte King.' Feisty, strong, bossy, kinda abrasive at times sure, and with a scowl that kills… but, then she's _my _Charlotte... if that makes any sense..."

"It makes sense. She loves you Cooper. She _trusts _you. She's come this far because she has you."

Violet grabs his hand and squeezes it. Though she'll admit she's actually jealous of the relationship her best friend has with his wife (with Charlotte, who would have thought?), she also knows they've been through hell the past year. Their relationship has been put to the test and they survived. They deserve to make it. And seeing Cooper this happy is nice. A tad discouraging considering her and Pete aren't doing so well…

But nice.

"And then that sex…" he starts again, slipping her a pleading pout, his was of asking for permission to continue. She doesn't look thrilled, but she also doesn't stop him, so he takes that as a 'go on'. "We have sex. We're pretty active in that compartment. But, it's still not the same. It's not the filthy, domineering, say-my-name kind of sex we used to have… which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Couple-sex is good. I remember begging for couple-sex at one time. But, it's Charlotte. And Charlotte's naughty. And it's me. And I'm—"

"Yeah… got it." She's heard a fair amount of Cooper's kinky sex stories to know _exactly _how he is.

"Yeah… But I caught a glimpse of it last night. She was dirty. We played doctor."

"Original."

"Hey, it's a start," he stops, rests his chin on his hand and smiles, "and then the sleeping… with the cute nose twitch… yeah, I'm happy."

"I can tell."

"I just think things are looking up for us. And thank you, Violet, for suggesting the meeting idea. I really think it's gonna be a big help."

"Just because it seems like she had one good experience, I don't want you getting your hopes up. How long or how often Charlotte chooses to go to these meetings is purely up to Charlotte. You can't push her or make her go. It has to be her decision. And your job as her husband is to support her along the way— whether that means her coming home, shutting you out, keeping her distance…" she watches Cooper's face go from optimistic to apprehensive, so she feels compelled to elude some hope. "_Or _if that means enjoying nights like the one you two shared. You've got to be there— through the ups and downs; good times and bad. Charlotte survived a trauma. It's a part of her now. I should know."

"Of course I'll be there."

"I know you will. And I'm glad you're happy Cooper. You deserve it. You both do."

"So do you. Speaking of happy… I bet Pete's glad to finally be home."

Violet shakes her head, drums her fingers silently on the tabletop and utters, "To be honest, I think he's happiest between the hours of 9 and 12." Cooper looks confused, so she clarifies, "Because I'm here, meaning I'm not at home."

"He's still mad huh?"

"I don't think mad is the right word. It's like he hates me, Cooper. Literally. Hates me. At home, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. Here, I feel like I'm not being the loyal wife. I don't know if he's relieved when I'm here and he can have some space, or if he's mad that I leave in the first place…? He won't talk to me; if I ask him a question he thinks I'm shrinking him, if I don't ask it's like I don't care. So, what am I supposed to do? What's my next move?"

She's not really expecting an answer, but he only hesitates a moment before reiterating, "You've got to be there— through the ups and downs; good times and bad," and she certainly can't deny that guidance. "Just hang in there Vi. He'll come around. He knows you love him."

"Violet, good, you're still here." The two turn around to greet Sheldon as he waltzes in the kitchen with a folder wedged under his arm. "I have a few questions for you."

"Of course." _More questions. _

She's still without a license, and though her lawyer seems optimistic about her getting it back soon, she still feels helpless to her patients. Hence her daily visits to the office to meet with Sheldon and discuss patient notes.

Hence her annoyance with Sheldon.

Clearly asking for his help was a mistake because the guy may be a brilliant therapist, but he is the most fastidious person she knows. He reminds her of Mr. Clark, one of her professors in college. No matter how hard she worked on a paper, he'd hand it back to her with more red ink on it than black, it looked like it been through a crime scene. Similarly, Sheldon has been pinpointing out every little flaw with her notes and frankly, with her current mood, she may just take that file and whack him across his face— specifically, his big, know-it-all mouth.

"Is there a problem?"

_He's doing you a favor. Don't start anything. _

Cooper's watching her face, looking quite amused. He's heard her rant about Sheldon's hairsplitting critiques, and he knows behind that forced smile is a ticking time bomb just begging to blow. That being said however, he's not surprised when all she says is, "No. No problem." And then she's giving Cooper a warning look.

He just chuckles to himself and reaches for his phone. He's been trying to think of something clever to text Charlotte. Who knows? Maybe it will lead to round two of that awesome, mind-blowing sex. Definitely worth a shot.

"Is Charlotte in her office?"

It's quiet for a few seconds and Cooper realizes the question must be directed towards him. Sure enough, he looks up and sees Sheldon looking expectantly at him.

"Oh, uh no. She's at the hospital. Why?"

"I've been meaning to talk to her about Amelia."

"What about Amelia?" Violet asks, remembering her last encounter with her at St. Ambrose.

"Something's off."

"How do you mean?"

"She's not herself. I think she's battling something… something Charlotte knows more about than you or I."

Cooper perks up. He knows what Sheldon means by that. He's heard Charlotte's qualms concerning Amelia, and he hates to be selfish or to seem inconsiderate, but before he can help it he exclaims, "Please don't bring Charlotte into this."

Sheldon looks from Cooper, to Violet, back to Cooper, and then reasons, "As far as I can tell, she's already involved."

"Wait, what are you two talking about?" Violet cuts in.

"What do you mean she's involved?" Cooper probes, his happy mood quickly flying right out the window.

A reluctant puff is exhaled by Sheldon, and he doesn't look all that pleased with himself when he discloses, "The night Pete had his heart attack, Charlotte called me to go check on Amelia. She knew something was up with her— she wouldn't tell me what— but it didn't take much figuring out." He takes another breath, hates what he's about to admit, but no use denying it. "Amelia is on a downward spiral. She's drinking more than usual, acting out, using poor judgment… it doesn't look good."

"We're jumping to conclusions."

"Are we Cooper? Charlotte suspended Amelia's surgical privileges. Do you think she would have made that decision lightly?"

"Of course not. Charlotte was right to make that call. Amelia was way out of line, but I mean… are we really going to jump from Amelia making one bad choice to her being an alcoholic?"

"Don't be naïve! There's more to this than that and you know it."

"Okay, lets all take a breath." Violet advises, glancing back and forth between the scowling men, sensing the need to clear this whole thing up and debating where she should start. "Sheldon, Cooper is right. We shouldn't be making those kind of assumptions." And just like she knew he would, Cooper smirks, but she only allows him a split second of gloating before adding, "_however, _Sheldon's not all wrong. Amelia is definitely not herself. She came with Addison one day to visit Pete when he was still in the hospital and she seemed unusually temperamental, to say the least. Though the Charlotte suspending her thing does explain a lot."

"And on the night I stopped by your place she had just been out drinking." Sheldon notes, giving Cooper an 'I-told-you-so-look' and then it's Violet who recalls, "And Addison said she was going out quite a bit."

They all sit in silence until Cooper straightens up, knocking his cast against the stool, causing him to grimace slightly.

Sheldon frowns and benevolently asks, "How's your foot?"

"Not bad. A little agitated today," and he and Violet exchange a look.

"Used it too much yesterday?"

"You can say that…"

There's an eye roll from Violet, and Cooper starts recalling yet again the debauched escapades he enjoyed with Charlotte the night before.

And the waffle making…

And the sleeping…

And then he envisions all the undesirable effects this worrying over Amelia would bring to their improving day-to-day life.

So he makes a pleading request. "Okay you're right. Amelia may be in trouble, and I don't mean to come off as insensitive or act like I don't care, but I really need you both to not bring this up to Charlotte. She's working on herself right now— trying to feel better. Just, _please, _let her focus on that. Please."

"Why? Is Charlotte not doing well?" Sheldon questions and Violet starts filling him in while Cooper get's back to the text message he's been meaning to send his wife. His fingers start tapping away and he hits send with a goofy grin on his face, imagining the witty response he'll undoubtedly be getting back.

* * *

><p>Charlotte is swamped. It's just what she gets for not stoppin' by the hospital at all the day before.<p>

She walked into her office this morning only to be greeted by a mile-high stack of paperwork, a handful of calls to make, and an instant headache. After an hour or two of administrative work, she figured she could use a 'break' from her desk and elected to make her rounds, check on the patients.

Which led her to the drama in the ER where some yammerin' idiot was makin' a fuss after comin' to the groundbreakin' conclusion that divin' into the pool from his roof was probably not such a good idea…

'Course he wouldn't be here if he came to that realization _before_ crackin' his skull open.

And he has the nerve to blame the nurses for the amount of pain he's in.

_Some people seriously make me wonder… _

She's just making her way back to her office when her phone buzzes.

It's a text from Cooper, and she knows it has to be a suggestive text after all the fun they had last night. They were running a bit late this morning, both not wanting to move and end the blissful relaxation they were thoroughly enjoying. But the alarm clock won the battle, and they pathetically dragged themselves out of bed, got ready, stopped by the car lot so that Cooper could pick up his rental, and went their separate ways.

That being said, there wasn't much time for the usual provocative dialogue that typically took place the morning after a night of sexcapades like the one they had.

And sure enough, when she opens up his message, it reads: _Thinking about yesterday's doctor's appointment and can't shake the feeling that I might have missed something. I think you better come back in tonight for a full exam. I'll put my gyno skills to good use…_

She shakes her head and leans back in her chair. She's missed this— this side of them. And though some of his lines are corny as hell, she has a weak spot for 'em. They make her smile.

She only thinks for a second before replying: _I'll be there, doctor. Hope you're an organ donor. You have one I need. ;-)_

Her attentions drifts back to the forms on her desk and she barely finishes skimming through one paragraph before her phone goes off again.

_God, Coop must be horny. _

But it's not Cooper. It's Jamie..

_Hey! Hope you're having an *enchanting* day… Saw Tim earlier and he asked when you were coming in the shop again. I think you have an admirer! Free coffee for you. :) Just don't tell your husband._

Charlotte chuckles to herself. She hasn't had a friend... or whatever... outside the hospital since who knows when. And now with Amelia and her not speakin', well, it's nice to have a non-colleague person to talk to.

_I'll be sure not to mention it to the husband. Gotta admit, the free coffee is a bonus. _

A minute goes by...

_Definitely a perk. I bet he'd just LOVE to show you how he grinds it. ;-) Okay, talk to you later. These needy customers are demanding service. Damn them. _

Another laugh escapes Charlotte and she turns back to her dreaded paperwork. It's early in the day, she still has an unfair amount of work to do.

But she's in a good mood. Things are lookin' up.

And besides, she has her husband's very gifted '_gyno skills_' to look forward to…


	21. Chapter 21

_A.N.: Hey guys! It's been a while! To make this easy on you, this chapter takes place the same day as the last. So reread if you have to. Hopefully i'll be updating more frequently now. 'Hopefully' being the operative word. ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing! Happy June!  
><em>

* * *

><p>It's been one of those long-drawn-out days, that somehow still seem to lack the adequate amount of hours needed to get everything done, and she's tired. Dead tired.<p>

The ER's been a madhouse— one difficult patient filing in after another— and she'd be paged, forced to leave the peaceful solitude of her office, only to return some number of minutes later to find yet another stack of paperwork staring her in the face.

And then the cycle would repeat itself. _Dammit, it never ends does it?_

She glances at the clock. A quarter before seven. Still early— nothing compared to her late nights. But she's beyond ready to get the hell out of here.

It's becoming difficult to concentrate. Her mind is too focused on headin' home, slippin' into somethin' a little more comfortable (her favorite pair of sweats, or if Cooper has his way, her birthday suit), veggin' out with her man on the couch (think she can talk him into a foot rub?), pretendin' that she'll never have to move, never have to deal with another damn piece of paperwork or shit-for-brain patient ever, _ever_ again for as long as she lives… (that delusion ending with the chime of her alarm the next morning)…

And lest we forget round two of playin' doctor tonight...

God, that's _just _what she needs right now…

But reality check— she can't leave just yet. She has work to do. And like Big Daddy always used to say: _Either fish or cut bait._

And given that this papery sea of chaos is currently submerging what she usually considers a tidy and professional display… she better get a move on and grab a fishin' rod.

So she straightens up, scoots herself closer to the desk, picks up a pen, and scans the flood of papers in front of her. _Jesus_. How in God's name did she fall so behind? Sure she was busy, but it wasn't like she didn't have ten minutes here and there to fill this crap out.

Her cell phone chimes: Her battery's gettin' low. _Thanks a lot, Coop. _

He'd been messaging her off and on all day. Some suggestive texts. A few sweet compliments. One _very _inappropriate picture…

Tryin' to keep her all riled up for tonight's entertainment, _bless him. _

Oh lord, and then the idiot made that crazy-ass comment about his—

_Oh. _

Now it's startin' to make sense.

All that textin' nonsense may have a little somethin' to do with her desk still bein' covered with this daunting mound of unsigned forms.

But she figures she can't be too mad about that. Honestly, it kept her in a decent mood despite all the aggravatin' commotion goin' on— and good thing too, because if she wasn't in her current cheery disposition, someone's head would've definitely been chewed off by now.

Instead, she's still sportin' a smile as she separates her remaining work into her habitual, three piles:

_- Can wait 'til tomorrow_

_- Comin' home with me_

_- Gotta be finished before I can even think about leavin' _

… and then she spends the next thirty minutes-or-so writing like a mad woman.

She's just about ready to take off when there's a knock on the door and Addison meekly pokes her head in.

"Hey! Oh…," her gaze switched to the purse readily sitting on Charlotte's shoulder. "Heading out?"

"Gettin' ready to. Still have to make a quick stop at the practice, and I think I've had my fill of this place for the day." She evens out the pile in front of her and gathers it between her forearm and her chest, all with the intention of standin' up, stayin' true to her word, and marchin' straight on out of there.

But Addison looks uneasy, like she's wanting— or really, not wanting— to talk. So Charlotte relaxes in her chair, allowing the stack of files to drop and her purse to slide down to the crook of her arm, and gestures the doctor in with a, "Why? You need somethin'?"

Addison's keeping her distance. She's still leaning against the door so that it's partially ajar and smiling timidly in Charlotte's direction, but her eyes keep drifting nervously through the propped-open door. Either she's eyein' the nearest exit for a swift escape, or she's keepin' watch on someone.

"Addison," Charlotte soothes, "I'm not gonna bite."

She finally loosens up a bit, letting her shoulders sag and the door fall shut behind her. It doesn't escape Charlotte's attention, however, that her hand never leaves the handle.

"Amelia told me what happened."

"Ah." _Should've guessed. _"And you disagree with my decision to suspend her?"

"No!" Addison asserts almost too sharply, too compliantly. "No, not at all. I would have done the same thing if I was in your position. Amelia was wrong. I mean, God… when I sit and think of all the things that could've gone wrong…," she shakes her head, runs her fingers through her hair and peeks back over her shoulder towards the door.

Charlotte nods her head slowly— half out of agreement, half waiting for the '_but' _that's undoubtedly looming. She decides to keep up with her defense by reminding, "And as much as I care for Amelia, I can't play favorites here. I run a hospital. There's a lot on the line."

"Of course. We're all professionals here."

There's a long, awkward minute of cordial smiling before Charlotte calmly (though somewhat sardonically—she can't help it) asks, "So… what? You come all the way over here just to tell me that I made the right call? 'Cause I already knew that."

Her tone is lighthearted, and it gets a chuckle out of Addison who is gradually creeping her way closer to the desk. Charlotte further encourages her, pointing to the chair opposite the one she's in and bows her head as a silent invitation for her to sit, and she's really hoping she does. All that anxious teetering is making her uncomfortable.

But much to her displeasure, Addison holds out her hand in refusal.

Well, at least she's standing still now...

"Actually, I had a long chat with Amelia, and I was hoping, maybe, that you two could talk— reason with each other— maybe figure out some way for her to earn your trust back? To get her back to work?" She's looking for words, not necessarily stuttering, but if she did have a speech planned before stepping into the office, it went flyin' out the window- most likely after catching a glimpse of Charlotte's glare. She does _not _look pleased. Not. One. Bit.

But Addison pushes on, adding, "She needs this Charlotte. Surgery means everything to her and not being able to do it… it's not good for her. Especially not now. Right _now_, she needs something positive and meaningful to focus on."

There's no response from Charlotte. She's just sitting there, her mouth curved into a permanent scowl, her green eyes locked harshly on Addison's blue ones, her fingers drumming silently, warningly, on the edge of her desk…

"Maybe," Addison tries again, "you two can come up with some sort of compromise? Like she can—"

"A compromise," Charlotte echoes, though her tone is a far cry from the composed gentleness of Addison's suggestion. "Really Addison? Use your goddamned head, there's nothin' _to _compromise. I've said it before and I'll say it again: this isn't personal, _this _is business. _This _is the consequence of Amelia's reckless, irresponsible action that could have resulted in a patient needlessly bein' sent to the morgue— to a family askin' umpteen million questions on '_what went wrong'_, '_how'd this happen'_, and what would I have had to tell 'em? That one of _my _doctors operated while under the influence of alcohol? That she accidentally nicked somethin' when her vision was obscured or her hand was twitchin'? That she _killed their _son, _their _brother, the person that _they _loved, all because she was stressed and needed a little reprieve when she knew she was on call. But _please, _don't hold it against her, 'cause she's _my friend. _And it was just a mistake, right? It could've happened to anyone. Yeah, that would've went over _real _well..."

"Charlotte—"

"And what about me? What about St. Ambrose? Do you understand what kind of fire this hospital would've been under? The lawsuits? The hospital's reputation would be tarnished. The medical board would question my competence as Chief of Staff. Not to mention what would've happened to Amelia! Her medical license would have been revoked, and instead of havin' to deal with a trivial suspension, she'd be lookin' at a permanent vacation— very likely one behind bars!"

She's worked up now, and Addison doesn't know where to go from here. Should she just leave? Cut her losses? Attempt to bring it back up again in a few days? Or should she push back harder? Fight. _This is for Amelia. _She needs Amelia to get back to her old self. And getting her back to work would at least be something. It's small. But it's a start.

And as that all cycles through her mind, Addison's stays quiet, giving Charlotte a moment to calm down a bit and question her own intentions. Though she felt it was necessary, guilt is washing over her for raising her voice when clearly Addison isn't against her or the hospital…

She's just worried about her friend.

And so is Charlotte. More than anyone else realizes.

"Charlotte," Addison pleads, "I'm worried. You know her history."

Charlotte's face softens then, her stare goes from shrill to warm and concerned, and as she rests back in her chair, she tenderly asks, "How's she doin'?

A shake of the head is all she gets in return before Addison turns, walks to the door, opens it wide, and with a tilt of her head motions in a loitering Amelia.

And just like that, Charlotte has her answer. 

* * *

><p>The practice is quiet when she arrives.<p>

Not empty, just quiet. Patients are gone for the day.

She spots Cooper in Violet's office, and though she was hoping he wouldn't, she's pretty sure he noticed her walk by. But she's not going to give him a second glance.

Her eyes are trained forward, not blinking, a little red from her tearful car ride, and dammit, if she'd known that she was going to be this outwardly emotional, she would have stayed in the car a little longer.

Because she knows what's going to happen. Cooper's going to see her— see right through her tight smile and misty eyes, ask her what's wrong, and she'll break down and tell him all about her confrontation with Amelia at the hospital. She'll tell him all her fears and stomach-churning feelings about the months ahead, and instead of the frisky amusement they had planned, their evening will be filled with nothing but heartache and cautious conversations. Cooper's not all that comfortable with addiction talk...

But she's at her office now, and as fast as she swings the door open, she closes it— her body leans against it, her eyes finally fall shut, and she's only there a minute before she feels the door push against her as Cooper makes his way in.

He feels her weight, he knows she's right there, so he doesn't even get the door completely open before announcing, "It's been very hard for me to concentrate today thanks to you Mrs. Freedman." Then the door is entirely opened, and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His hand fumbles for the switch as he mutters an almost incomprehensible, "Why are you in the dark?"

Charlotte's the one who flicks the light on, and the visibility makes her tense up. Her lips impulsively curve up into a pathetic attempt of a smile, her brows arch up with the intent to brighten up her eyes, and just like she figured, Cooper is staring at her unconvinced.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin', why?"

"Charlotte..."

"What?" she snipes before she can help it, and this is no where near the mood he was expecting to find her in.

"Don't shut me out… _please_."

She breathes a defeated sigh, and Cooper takes that as his cue to move in closer. "Addison and Amelia stopped by my office at the hospital," she says, and great… she's taking in one of those quivering breaths… he hates those quivering breaths. They kill him.

She starts again. "They stopped by my office to talk about me lettin' Amelia get back to surgery— for me to lift her suspension."

"Okay…"

"Addison's worried. She said uh… she said Amelia needed things to get back to normal and that she'd learned her lesson, and I almost said '_fine, let her come back, we'll see how it goes'_." She's sidetracked for a moment, her gaze switching to Cooper's hands that are resting on her upper arms now, his thumbs mildly massaging her shoulders. A silent comfort. She's still watching his hand when she whispers, "Then she brought Amelia in." She shakes her head, her eyes meet his, and she shrugs, "I said no. I _had _to say no. That girl standing in front of my desk was not Amelia. And Addison knows it's bad, but she has no idea how bad it is— she's turnin' a blind eye to it. But I know. One look and… I know."

She's hurting and Cooper cannot shake the feeling of annoyance that's overwhelming him. He made it clear this morning that he wanted Charlotte to focus on Charlotte. Not on Amelia and her problems. On _Charlotte_, on herself. On them. Sure that might be selfish, and probably unrealistic, but Amelia has her people. She has Addison and Sheldon breathing down her neck and making sure she doesn't run off and drink herself into a coma. Charlotte has _him_. _He _has Charlotte. It's his job to protect her and keep her happy and God, can't they just be happy for a while? Can't they have their time?

And then he feels her delicately lean into him. He see's her chin quiver. And now he's not just annoyed, he's hurting right along with her... and at the moment, all he can think to do is to pull her in for a well-needed hug. "She's in trouble, Coop. I just don't know what to do," she murmurs against his neck, and the pain in her voice just makes him hold her tighter.

They stay like that for a moment before Cooper suggests, "Nothing. You do nothing."

"Nothin'?" What do you mean, nothing'," she snaps, pulling away from his grip.

"Charlotte, you've done enough. You've asked her to go to meetings with you, you've tried to talk sense into her and she hasn't listened. She doesn't want to listen. You've done your part. Addison is watching her, Sheldon's staying on top of it, and I promise that between the two of them, Amelia is safe."

"They're not addicts, Cooper. I am. A recovered one, but an addict just the same. Addison and Sheldon love Amelia, I'm not arguing that, but they can't possibly know what they're dealin' with. Addison made that very clear today. Amelia was strung out right there in front of me and Addison dismissed it, excusin' it as some sort of slump. She doesn't get it, I do, and I can't just sit back and do nothin'. Not after all Amelia's done for me. No, I can't do that."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." There's no point in arguing with her, her mind's set. And he really doesn't want to upset her anymore than she already is. "Lets get out of here. We can head home, you can take a hot, bubble bath…get all comfy. I'll make us a bite to eat, and we can figure something out. We'll just relax, and talk, and figure something out. Okay?"

He watches her face melt, as she nods and offers him a sincere, "Thank you."

His response is a soft kiss on her cheek, and then he leaves for his office to grab his stuff. Charlotte turns to do the same, gathering the files she came for and reading the messages left on her desk. She hasn't missed much— a welcomed relief.

Lastly, she plays the voicemails on her office phone. One's an update on a patient. She already got that memo at St. Ambrose. And then there's the second…

_Hi Dr. King, this is Marcia Jenkins from the woman's support group. Just wanted to see how your first meeting went. Sorry I couldn't be there. I heard you didn't stay for the whole thing, and that's okay. The first session is almost always the hardest. I do hope you come back and give it another chance, however. Feel free to call me if you have any concerns or if you just want to talk. Looking forward to meeting you in person next time! Take care._

Charlotte whips her head up. No sign of Cooper. Thank God. That's the last thing she needs right now. She quickly hits delete just as she hears the patter of his casted foot walking towards the door. "Ready?"

"I am."

"Good, let's hit it. I don't know about you, but I feel like another round of Cooper Freedman's famous chocolate chip waffles."

"They _are _the best," she agrees. "Just like the chef."

It may not be the night they had planned (_not even close_), but because she has him, she'll endure it.

And the chocolate chip waffles definitely won't hurt.


End file.
